


Supernatural Pairing ficlets

by ThePowerBabe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angelcest (Supernatural), Angels, Angst, Bloodplay, CANNONVERSE!, Demons, Destiel - Freeform, Drama, Drowley, Ficlets, First Time, Frottage, Gen, Grief, Hunters, Hurt/Comfort, I can go on, I don't know all the pairing names, I feel a bit creepy about The Chuck/Jack one, Loss, Love, M/M, Multi, No Omega/Alpha stuff, Oral, Other, Pain, Sastiel - Freeform, Wincest - Freeform, blame, demon smoke play, its probably in here, major character death (cannon), you name it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:35:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 51,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22189501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePowerBabe/pseuds/ThePowerBabe
Summary: Just an assortment of m/m pairing stuff that I am stashing here because I am notorious for losing this shit. I wrote this stuff a while ago but never posted it. Comment or not. it doesn't matter.
Relationships: Abner/Gadreel (Supernatural), Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Sam Winchester, Chuck Shurley & Everyone, Crowley (Supernatural)/Dean Winchester, Crowley/Lucifer (Supernatural), Crowley/Lucifer/Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Gadreel/Sam Winchester, Jack Kline/Chuck Shurley, Jack Kline/Sam Winchester, Lucifer/Sam Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	1. Lucifer's pets

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you at least enjoy it a little LOL

The cavern between muscles down Sam's stomach glistened with gathered sweat among other things as he lay pinned down to the rack with his arms over his head and his legs parted and anchored. Lucifer walked around him and looked up and down the form and all the little bloody marks left by weeks of abuse.  
Sam cried out. No, he screamed. He cursed. He maintained silence thru some of the worst torture. However, he never begged. Never. Lucifer had to admit to himself that he was slightly disappointed about this, but he didn't really let it dampen his spirit any. In fact, Lucifer smiled, the fact that Sammy boy has not broken yet presented Lucifer with a pleasurable sense of determination.  
There just seemed no end to Sam's resilience to attack. Physical, psychological. you name it, it has been done to Sam. He just buried that breaking point so deep inside himself that Lucifer could not find it. He couldn't even see it. Not until now. Usually humankind is an open book. He would have to do some digging but most live their lives with their hearts on their sleeve. Sam is not a usual suspect. Good thing Lucifer had nothing but time to get right into the center and hit that well spring of pain and purpose.  
Ever the optimist. Never disheartened by the Winchester's ability to withstand torture, Lucifer knew even they had a breaking point. A weakness. He just had to know what buttons to press. Dean seemed too easy. Besides... Sam made it clear that he would not try to save Dean from the abyss. What was the point of using the feather loving narcissist if it isn't leverage enough?  
Lucifer ran his hand across Sam's bare stomach and felt the muscles there jump in response. Sam, as it is, is not even awake. His head was forward, and his brown tresses hung to obscure his face. His face unmarked. No injuries were inflicted there. Lucifer ran his thick fingers thru the slightly wet hair, brushing it back and pushing Sam's head up so his face is visible. Sam's mouth slightly open.  
Sam moans. It makes the corners of Lucifer's mouth perk up a little as he stepped closer and touched the dips in the muscles on the flat tummy again. He did so as if curious. This isn't the first time he has touched Sam like this. He makes funny sounds when he is aware of it. Yet this didn't even seem to break him. Lucifer had no illusion that Sam would rather not be touched in this manner, but it is also obvious that he isn't going to break over it too. He is remarkably resilient. And that defiance is so delicious. Lucifer leaned forward and pressed his nose and tongue against Sam's upper chest and sniffed and licked at the same time. Drawing in the scent of Sam's masculinity and taste his resilience.  
Sam made no reaction. Lucifer, however, moans slightly as he brought his head back and his eyes flash red as he watches a string of his spit roll down the curves of Sam's chest to mingle with the sweat and blood just as another string of spit attached to his lip snaps away. He moans again.  
"Wakey wakey - eggs and bacy..." Lucifer says and lightly pats the side of Sam's face. It came out like a purr as he came a bit closer, pressing his body against the man just starting to come up from unconsciousness. Lucifer giggled a little as he did, just thinking of Sam's reaction to this. And of course, he did not displease. Once Sam's eyes opened and his awareness was sharp enough to put two and two together and felt Lucifer pressed against him, he pulled a disgusted face and squirmed. Yet... he failed to beg. Just a little 'please don't do this' would be enough, but he is a stubborn boy.  
"I'll never get tired of this, Sam. All you must do is... beg me to stop. I'll end it for you." Lucifer said with a grin and fighting to maintain an air of control. Truth is, he wanted Sam and not just for a vessel. He watched Sam's throat as he struggled with whatever response teetered on the tip of his tongue. Lucifer's mouth watered.  
"Bite me." Sam managed to whisper out as he looked down at his captor. Seriously is that the best he could do. Bite me? Lucifer, eyes glared red for a moment, lifted his eyes to investigate Sam's and saw a flash of fear. He plunged forward and indeed bit Sam's neck. Sam screamed as his skin broke. But since Lucifer's teeth are that of a human, the pain is blunt. Not the same as being bit by a vampire.  
Blood trailed down Lucifer's chin and Sam's chest. Lucifer pulled away with an opened mouth hiss of satisfaction as he watched Sam writhe in agony. Lucifer giggled again and licked his lips. Sam bit his lips to stifle the painful cry and looked back at Lucifer indignantly.  
"You asked for that." Said Lucifer playfully.  
"When Dean and Castiel find me-" Sam started but Lucifer rolled his eyes.  
"What are they going to do? Cass going to smite me. Dean going to glower me to death?' Lucifer stepped back and dragged his finger down over Sam's hip. He popped his finger in his mouth, making a show of sucking on it for Sam. "Let's tell the truth, Sam. Cass can't smite anything, but his pure intentions and Dean is a train wreck of suppressed emotional issues. All I would have to do is squash Castiel like a bug to disable your brother."  
Sam struggled against his cuffs holding him to his upright table prison. All he got for this display of displeasure is a soft chuckle from Lucifer.  
"You stay away from them!" Sam snapped as he strained against his cuffs. "Or... I swear to god-"  
"Yeah how has that been working for ya? I am assuming not so much since, you know, you are hear with me." Lucifer said in a burlesque sort of way as he playfully swayed seductively against Sam. Sam turned his head away and Lucifer stood up straight.  
"I won't do anything to them. Like I said. They aren't enough.' Lucifer started pacing back and forth with his fingers tapping his bottom lip, thinking. "I could destroy them. You know I can. But I see no point in throwing away such entertainment. Think of how much better they would be as my good little puppies if I was wearing you.' He stopped and smiled slyly at Sam. "I can get them to do whatever I want. Anything. Just twitch a finger and watch the little puppet dance."

Lucifer strolled slowly up to Sam again and leaned in to whisper.  
"I can get Castiel to lick our cock. Would you like that? Have Dean watch? Or maybe...' Lucifer leaned in closer and brought his lips closer to Sam's ear. "Have Dean join him?" Sam stared at Lucifer, completely lost in disbelief. Irate to the point of being unable to respond with anything but a glare. Lucifer pulled away and stared back at his captive with an appraisal.  
"The problem is, sweetie... I need something that is going to bend you. So... while you were AWOL, I took the liberty of tripping the light fantastic thru your frontal lobe. Is it true? You were addicted to demon blood?" Lucifer laughed.  
"Screw you!" Sam said thru his teeth. "You can do what you want to me. I won't bend."  
"Oh, you will. You'll bend. All the way. You will take me in and love every inch of it -" Lucifer covered his mouth in mock embarrassment. The look on Sam's face was priceless. "Well that didn't quite come out as I intended. Forgive the Freudian Slip." Lucifer darted forward and grabbed a bunch of Sam's hair at the back of his head and yanked it back to expose the length of his throat. "Or... we can take that and run with it. What do you think? Hashtag fuckboy?"  
"Don't..." Sam breathed as Lucifer ran his free hand up Sam's leg slowly and sensually, careful to look into Sam's eyes as he did it. Lucifer looked mildly disappointed.  
"Oh baby, you got to give a little to get a little. Just the P word would get me so ready. But you want to be a complete and utter tease. I want to be good to you, but you won't be good to me." Lucifer pouted as he slipped his hand up between Sam's legs and brushed his palm against the denim covered flesh there, making Sam twitch and squirm. "You're so selfish."  
Lucifer pulled away and seized up Sam.  
"I got an idea. Since you have a bit of a thing for demon blood... what if I... give it to you. Would you be happy then?"  
"You're an Angel-" Sam said, fear bubbling at the corners of his mouth. Not because of Lucifer. But the thought of being exposed to demon blood again. He feared it. Lucifer knows it. However, he knows he becomes significantly more powerful when under the influence of demon blood. He just doesn’t want that vice again, nor does he think he would even be strong enough to take on Lucifer, no matter what sort of demon blood he has.  
"Duh, I know that, honey. I didn't say I would give you my blood. I said I would give you demon blood. But not just any demon blood. I have some special demon blood on tap. Just for you."  
Lucifer held up a silent finger to tell Sam he should wait and be patient before he dropped his hand and laughed. "Oh, I forgot... you can't do anything but wait and be patient. I will just go get it, okay?"   
Sam watched Lucifer leave the room for a moment and as soon as he was out of sight, Sam rested his head and closed his eyes. "Cass... Cass I need you. I need you, Dean. Help me!" He called out in his head to anyone who would hear him, but he was distracted by the sound of footfalls and chains rattling. Sam opened his eyes and looked in time to see Lucifer coming back into the room with a man in black, chains and a silk bag over his head. Lucifer spared no kindness as he dragged the man to the point of nearly making him fall over.  
Lucifer's treatment of the third person was belied by the glimmering pleasure on his face. He tugged and yanked the man and when he was in front of Sam, he pushed the man between them, holding onto the collar around the man's neck. Then with a violent pull, forced the man to his knees.  
Sam knew who it was even before Lucifer could pull the sack off his head. He could smell a faint air of scotch and cologne mixed with filth and blood. Sam is slightly confused. Things could hardly be better with Crowley here. 

"What did you do to him?" Sam asked breathlessly.  
"Did you know he has been addicted to human blood? Who knew this would come together for me." Lucifer said and yanked the hood off Crowley's head. The former King of Hell looked a mess. However, even though he looked like he had been thru a war, he still maintained that slight air of superiority and defiance. Sam was sure that air would not be so easily scrubbed away even by endless torture from Lucifer.  
"Who's a good doggy?" Lucifer pat Crowley’s head and he flinched. Since Crowley is in front of Lucifer, facing Sam, Lucifer did not see Crowley's eyes burn red for a moment before they subsided to his normal deep wells of bronze.  
"Crowley... look at me." Sam muttered. Crowley looked up at him and opened his mouth as if to speak but Lucifer kneed him softly.  
"Sam is talking to you. Don't be rude."  
"...What do you want me to say? Hello, Moose?" Crowley said in that husky tone, deep and throaty. Sam flashed a look at Lucifer.  
"What did you do to him?" Sam asked, never thinking he would see Crowley like this again. Thinking the King of Hell would safeguard himself from this sort of indignity. But here he is, on his knees reeking of blood.  
"Are you expressing concern for him?" Lucifer raised his brow line, straddled Crowley's back and pulled his head back with a tug of the chain around Crowley's neck. Crowley's head bumped against something slightly engorged between Lucifer's legs as he made a soft 'ah' sound. His eyes wells of anger and defiance as he looked up at Sam.  
"No, never-" Sam started and seen something shift in Crowley's eyes. Sam could not look at him anymore. He felt if he did look at him, he would start caring again and he didn't want to. He didn't want that over his head should Crowley manage to worm his way out of this mess. Crowley is a pro capitalist. Any chink in the armor would be utilized to save himself.  
"Never? Not even when you were pumping his veins full of your blood? Remember when he started to break down in front of you? Or do I need to remind you of the little spark in your chest as you watched him lose his cool?" Lucifer asked as he caressed the side of Crowley's face. “He cried in front of you. He cried out that he wanted to be loved. Are you telling me that did nothing to you?"  
"I'm not answering that." Sam sneered and Lucifer smiled wider.  
"Is it because you don't want to lie?"   
"No - this is just-" Sam stammered. "Crowley is a liar! An Actor! He deceives with mixed messages, like you!"  
"Hey, I didn't put those thoughts and feelings in your funny little heads. I merely took what was in your head and what was in his head-' Lucifer jingled Crowley's chains, "-to figure out how to seduce you into letting me in. I know, for instance, with all that machismo, some part of you...perhaps very deep inside... actually cares about Crowley."  
Sam shook his head getting ready to deny it.  
"I did say it was very deep in there. But it's there." Lucifer smiled. "And here is a little secret that our former King would never tell. He likes you, your brother and Castiel. But you in particular. Why is that?"  
"... Moose... he's lying. I care for no one but myself. You know this." Crowley whispered, trying to get Sam's attention, but it is firmly on Lucifer. Lucifer didn’t miss the call and he turned his head to lick up the side of Crowley's face, Sam watched in disturbed silence as he realized the tongue is forked. It seemed to hug to every contour of the side of Crowley's face. Crowley closed his eyes and lips parted slightly to the touch and Sam could not interpret the expression. It could have been pleasure but it may have also been an act to make Lucifer think he has him owned. Sam thoroughly believed it is the latter.  
"Is that so, Crowley?" Lucifer stood up. He was so close to Crowley that a sizable hard on tented the front of his well-worn jeans. The bulge visibly throbbed next to Crowley's face but the demon would not look toward it. "I happen to be in the know that you have helped the Brothers Winchester many times. Even helping and SAVING their little cherub. That doesn't sound like something a King of Hell would do."  
"I play my cards toward the one that will keep me alive longer. It has nothing to do with me liking anyone! I can't stand the plaid buffoons and their little lap dog!" Crowley snarled up at Lucifer. "I haven't nor will I ever let my heart feel anything so weak! I didn't become King of the Crossroads or the King of Hell because I care! I left you in the pit, didn't I?"  
"Aaaaw here I was thinking you were just a care bear and you loved having me close! Boy I have read you wrong, haven't I?"  
"Stop it, Lucifer!" Sam said. Lucifer waved a hand at him.  
"Oh, don't worry. He can't do anything because of all that hardware on him, huh, puppy?" Lucifer dragged Crowley up to his feet again and pushed him with force against Sam. Sam grunted from the impact of Crowley pretty much being thrown at him. But then Lucifer added his own force to it by pushing up against the back of Crowley, pressing them together. Sam could not help noticing the feeling of Crowley against him. Sam blushed furiously and turned his face away. "C'mon, group hug! Bring it in! Spread the love!" Lucifer tittered.  
"You know what I like most about having a meat suit?" Lucifer asked as he reached his hands down Crowley's sides and pulled the black Jacket open, sliding his hand under it. "Is we... that is, me and Crowley here, can do things that we couldn't do in our real forms." Lucifer laughed a little as he slipped his hand down and grabbed between Crowley's legs.  
"I don’t think you get what lucky little bag of tricks you are. Dad obviously didn’t want us fornicating or anything so we couldn't do this." Lucifer squeezed Crowley's crotch. Crowley's eyes burned blood red for a second. He swelled in Lucifer's hand. A low bellow emanated from him, it seemed to come from within Crowley and all around him as if the entire room reacted to the sinful touch.  
Lucifer's large hand kneaded the stiffness between Crowley's legs, forcing the smaller man to push forward into his palm. Crowley's shackled hands came down to clutch at the thick arm across his middle where he can feel the muscles flexing under the hot skin. Crowley began panting thru his teeth as Lucifer made a little show of running his fingers over the zipper on the front of Crowley's fine material trousers.  
"Has your Moose seen this yet?" Lucifer said as he gently took the zipper and started sliding it down. "You think your little Moose will be afraid of it? I have to say, I was quite impressed. You got nothing on me though, my meat suit is packin'."  
"The only thing packing on you is your ego." Crowley whispered in a carrying tone.  
"Ouch... right in the daddy bags. And here I was, going to make you feel good, but you want to be a little bitch." Lucifer said and squeezed Crowley's hardness. Far from causing displeasure, Crowley arched his back away from Lucifer, the pain in his groin causing ripples of intense pleasure bordering madness.  
"Crowley isn't the same as you. He used to be human. Only you didn't have the ability." Sam said long enough to pull his eyes away from Crowley's face. Lucifer's smug smile dropped a little. It came as a shock to Sam when Lucifer slapped him across the face, drawing blood from his lip. At first Sam was looking to Lucifer for another attack, he wasn't looking at Crowley, who was watching the fresh blood dribble down Sam's chin with hunger akin to a starved beggar. Only when Lucifer drew attention to his bloody lip did Sam realize how much trouble he was in.  
"Puppy thinks he likes that. Go on, puppy... take a taste." Lucifer coaxed by pushing Crowley's head forward. But so powerful is Crowley's need for the sustaining blood so close, his need for the rush, that even though he was being forced, it turned to less force and more desperation as his mouth came forward and licked over the drying blood around the bite mark left by Lucifer earlier.  
When the irony taste of the blood touched Crowley's tongue, something changed in him. His smaller body came alive and even though his wrists were tethered by chains, he clawed at Sam's chest and hungrily chewed, licked, sucked up the mess around the wound and worked up Sam's slender neck, over his chin and over Sam's bloody mouth. Crowley sounded feral as he feasted on Sam's blood. Being forcefully pressed into the larger man by an equally large beast behind him, Crowley lost any semblance of himself as soon as the blood touched his tongue.  
"Don't... Crowley - snap out of it-" Sam whimpered and hated the utterly helpless sound of his voice. Lucifer is too strong physically when he is not pinned to a table. But being pinned down like a moth on a cork board with Lucifer forcing as blood hungry Crowley clinging to him, all Sam could feel is a mixture of fear and the burn and tingle of Crowley's lips and tongue laving at the blood, the scratch of his salt and pepper beard leaving, however unintentionally, gooseflesh on Sam's skin in its wake.  
"Not too much." Lucifer yanked Crowley back by the chain. But Crowley had not released Sam's mouth willingly and he bit Sam's lower lip in an effort to stay, cutting the lip more. Sam's eyes watered at the pain, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from how unglued Crowley seemed to be. Lucifer was behind him, petting his head and gently rubbing a slightly engorged crotch as if he was rewarding Crowley for doing a good job.  
"You're a greedy little doggy. Who taught you to be that way?" Lucifer asked casually as he yanked Crowley back harder so that his back hit Lucifer's chest. Crowley was panting, his face smeared in blood, his eyes wide and animalistic. His fingers clenching and unclenching without conscious effort. He stared at Sam as if he is the single most beautiful thing he has ever seen.  
"This is your fault, Moose. If you hadn't tried to 'cure me' with your blood this would not be happening!" Crowley seethed as spittle laced blood rolled down his chin. Lucifer tutted and placed a hand over Crowley's mouth. He shoved his fingers in to push Crowley's tongue down so he could not speak. It actually made him wretch a little.  
"Now that is not nice." Lucifer whispered in Crowley's ear.  
"What-? You're blaming me?" Sam snapped suddenly at the call to blame.  
"Shhhh no... no finger pointing. We're big boys, lets act like it. Come on, let’s be amigos." Lucifer took Crowley's hand, spreading his fingers one by one, looking them over like he was trying to see which was the best. He ended up with Crowley's index and middle finger of his left hand clutched in his palm and he slid his mouth over them.  
Sam watched as Lucifer suck on Crowley's fingers slowly, even looking as if he was enjoying it as his other slipped its fingers in and out of Crowley's lips. Sam could not pull his eyes away even though every part of him screamed this was not something he wanted to see. Lucifer moaned and lapped at Crowley's fingers like they were a lollipop.  
Even Sam, who knew every fiber of his being, would normally be repulsed by this, was inwardly fascinated by it. His eyes roving from the point in which Lucifer's lips slid down Crowley's thick fingers to Crowley's expression as he watched Lucifer too. Not only that... but the sounds Crowley made while Lucifer's fingers slid in and around in his mouth, the hot wet sounds... Sam was lost in confusion over how he was supposed to feel. Lucifer slid his fingers, wet, out of Crowley's mouth and down his chest to the belt buckle that was hidden under his tie.  
"You're filthy... disgusting. Is this what the world awaits should you take over?" Crowley asked. Lucifer chuckled even though his mouth was still full. He popped his lips off Crowley's fingers and looked at him closely.  
"Far better this than what you were doing. A world of paper trails and statistics. Doesn't sound... erotic at all. Besides, I hardly think you are in a position to be commenting on this little thing. Remember, pet... I have been in that head of yours. I have seen what you have done. I have seen what you desire."  
"I desire nothing-" Crowley said but hissed as Lucifer bit the same fingers he had been sucking, drawing blood. The blood ran down his hand and under the black cuff of his jacket.  
"I don't like liars." Lucifer said stonily.  
"I was under the impression you like liars." Sam said. Lucifer looked up at him in mild surprise as if he forgot he was there.  
"Only good ones, Sam. Only good ones." He looked back down at Crowley. "And our former King of Hell is not a good liar compared to a master liar like me. I see thru him and that is what pisses him off."  
"You can continue to humiliate me... you can try to tear me down. But when I get free, you snotty little brat... I will make you suffer. There is no corner in heaven or hell that will keep you safe." Crowley muttered. Sam had to admit to himself that if a lesser person bore the brunt of Crowley's statement, they would be stricken in terror. Lucifer was not a lesser person.  
"Is that a threat?" Lucifer giggled.  
"Oh, it’s a promise, love... a very big and honest to goodness promise. If you think you can tell when I am lying. Then you know... I'm deadly serious." Crowley hissed. The inside of his mouth stained with red from Sam's blood, but also an ethereal mist of his demon self. Lucifer looked at him like he was a precocious child.  
"You're awful cute when you're mad. Do you know that?"  
Lucifer gripped Crowley's bleeding hand hard and pulled it up toward Sam. Crowley resisted, only somewhat. He knew it would be dangerous for Sam to be exposed to demon blood again. However, he also knew that if Sam is under the influence, then he may just have enough juice to break free. Crowley wasn't sure if Sam does break thru, the ruddy moose would even bother to help him, but at this point, with demon warding shackles on, Crowley is willing to go on a little faith here. Such as it is.  
"Say Aaaaahhhh, Sammy..." Lucifer said perkily. Sam turned his face away from the demon blood-soaked fingers being guided to his mouth. But to his surprise he felt no resistance from Crowley. In fact -  
"C'mon, Moose... take a little taste. For old time sake." Crowley's eyes and mouth still in the throes of the devil within, bleeding his contamination as he licked his teeth. "...for me..." Sam was aware of Lucifer's slight exhilaration. It came out as a sigh deep in his chest as he watched Crowley's fingers, soaked in his blood, slightly stained by nicotine, touch the tip of Sam's quivering lips.  
Sam closed his eyes to the touch. His lips loosened as Crowley's fingers slipped by them. By his teeth to his tongue. when the metallic taste tainted by sin and evil flooded his mouth, Sam's mind went into a violent tailspin. Sam's head tipped backward. it looked as if he was trying to pull away but what he was actually doing was clamping his teeth down on the aleady shredded fingers to force Crowley closer to him. He breathed heavily out of his nose as his tongue danced frantically around the inside of his mouth with Crowley's fingers.  
"Oh look... Mikey likes it." Lucifer quipped but on impulse of pure curiosity and dived forward and put his mouth against Sam's... while Crowley’s fingers were still in its warmth. Lucifer's tongue came out and slipped into Sam's mouth alongside the fingers and he too started to moan. Sam never imagined this would feel so... He can feel Lucifer's facial hair scratching against his face, and he liked it.  
In fact, he loved it. It must have been Crowley's demon blood that caused it. Sam leaned into it, opening his mouth to take in more of Crowley's fingers and allow Lucifer to dive deeper. Aware that the hardness that Crowley felt on the back of his head was now pressed to his hip. Suddenly he abandoned everything but they who occupied the room. His arms and legs strained against the bonds that held him, powerful surges of strength poured into him as Crowley’s blood poisoned him. Yet there was no pain. No fear.  
Taking turns in moaning and breathing in each other’s mouths. Lucifer and Sam fought over the fingers between them. It wasn't until Sam pulled his mouth away from Lucifer's did, he realize that Lucifer was holding Crowley back by the collar so the smaller man could not come closer. Sam looked down into Crowley's wild eyes as Lucifer's mouth made its slow and lecherous way down the strong muscles of Sam's neck.  
Sam felt the shackle around his right wrist come loose. Crowley's fingers slipped out of his mouth as Sam looked up in time to see Lucifer’s hand up at the cuff, releasing it. Sam stared at it for a moment as Lucifer kissed his neck, laving at the muscles and moaning so deeply. He can feel Crowley clawing at his chest trying to grab anything to bring himself closer, but Lucifer would not let him any closer.   
In a different time… in a different world, Sam would have called for help. He would be disgusted. But, as a connection came together, he suddenly came to a truth he had been running from all his life. Lucifer cupped the side of Sam’s face and started to suck on his ear, his breath hot, his tongue strong and warm as he flicked Sam’s earlobe. Sam realized that he has wanted this. His hips twisted at the same time Lucifer’s hips shifted and the hardness under his jeans throbbed. Lucifer groaned into Sam’s ear.  
Sam knew that he had to meet Lucifer. Had to reunite with Crowley after all that has happened between them. Sam whimpered though not out of fear. The whine was because he wanted them. Both. His free hand shot out and grabbed the collar around Crowley’s neck and pulled him upward, crushing his mouth against the King’s. Again, Sam’s blood graced Crowley’s tongue and he moaned hard, pressing into the kiss, his mouth open to force his tongue into Sam’s.   
Lucifer pulled back slightly to look at the display and was mildly surprised too feel a spike of jealous anger at the hungry way Sam kissed Crowley. He held back though. He wanted to see if either one of them would back away in utter surprise at their own actions. However, Sam’s free hand slipped off Crowley’s collar and wrapped around the smaller body and clutched the back of Crowley’s designer jacket and held him tight enough to see his muscles strain with exertion.  
Crowley had no real ability to do much and it irritated him. He is the bloody King of Hell and he can only clutch the belt around the Moose’s hips because of the shackles around his wrists. Being held up like a doll. All he knew was now he wanted his damned hands free so he can plunge them into Sam’s hair and really take the breath out of him with a kiss sure to curl his toes. Crowley wanted to be on him, in him and all over him. He moaned as Sam’s tongue wrestled with his. He pulled away a little, just enough to turn his head to speak. Sam continued to devour the side of Crowley’s face with dirty little sighs.  
“Take these bloody things off me!” Crowley barked at Lucifer. For a moment Lucifer was stunned by the display to the point he couldn’t move. The vein on Crowley’s forehead stood out as he looked at Lucifer. “You wanted this, you bleedin’ sod… now release me!”  
Lucifer reached forward and tucked a single finger between the cuff and Crowley’s wrist and the thing popped off. Crowley wasted no time. The cuff had hardly enough time to swing all the way down before he thrust that hand into Sam’s hair and clutched it tight while the other reached down and started unfastening the belt at Sam’s hips.  
But before they could really get into it more, Lucifer tugged the chain attached to Crowley’s collar and ripped him violently away from Sam. Crowley stumbled backward and landed on his hands and knees hard. Sam and Crowley looked a bit frazzled and confused and they both turned their eyes to Lucifer, who by now, was radiant with irritation. His eyes glowed. Unlike Crowley’s, Lucifer’s eyes cast a light. Circles of bright red orange. When Crowley was on his knees, Lucifer grabbed Sam’s free wrist and the room was empty.  
The three were suddenly in a large ornate room, dark oak walls and heavy-duty bedroom attire. Crowley, on his better days, would not look out of place here. Sam and even Lucifer in their current clothing of choice looked incongruous. But before anyone could really take in much of the room, Lucifer dropped the chain tethering him to Crowley and released Sam’s wrist. He sauntered over to the king-sized bed and looked it over for a moment before he belly flopped onto it and rolled onto his back with a sigh of appreciation.  
“This is my room!” Crowley said bitterly. Lucifer lifted his head from the middle of the bed and smiled at them as he started undoing his jeans.  
“It’s daddy’s now. Come here, both of you.” Lucifer gave them the come-hither fingers. Crowley was forced by the control Lucifer has on him. He stumbled over and crawled onto the bed. Sam noticed that Crowley’s eyes and inner mouth were back to normal. Crowley was on his knees near Lucifer’s hip, looking down at him.  
“Good boy, puppy,” Lucifer said in a sweet tone as he gently ran his fingertips in deft circles across the obvious hard on in Crowley’s trousers. Crowley’s hips moved to it, though by the look on his face, he was not happy about it.  
“My name isn’t ‘puppy’! It’s Crowley,” Crowley growled. Lucifer chuckled.  
“Sure… show me that trick you do so well.” Lucifer pulled his hands back and rested them behind his head, keeping it up so he can see what was about to happen. Crowley stared defiantly back at him for a moment. But knew he was not strong enough to withstand it. He could fight it, but then Lucifer would make him suffer the indignity of being forced. Crowley leaned over and lowered his head to the opening in the fly of Lucifer’s jeans, pressing his nose into the opening to draw in his scent before sliding upward and his teeth found the rim of Lucifer’s undergarment.  
Sam was paralyzed for a second, watching as Crowley rubbed his face against Lucifer’s hardness between the zipper of his jeans. It gave the illusion that Crowley was eating out a pussy. The reaction Lucifer gave to the sensation was galvanic. His body arched off the bed and his hips swayed from side to side causing more friction. His muscles taught and jumping as if he was being electrified. Lucifer’s hand came down and rested lazily on Crowley’s head and he moaned with a laugh of surprise.  
“I love the way you do that! I can tell you have had practice,” said Lucifer. “… say it, puppy… call me by my name the way I like it.” while he has had sex, his experience is admittedly limited. However, it wasn't lack of experience that made him enjoy this moment. It is the control he has over Crowley. Crowley may be pompous and have a rather flamboyant and inflated sense of ego... but that just made the torture and subjugation of his most royal heighness of Hell all the more bitter sweet.  
Crowley, again, groaned. It's muffled by Lucifer’s crotch, but by the way it drew out, it sent shivers down Sam’s back. It may have been Crowley's blood coursing thru him, reason fleeing the scene of the crime, Sam was being utterly seduced by the act in front of him. He can feel it thumping in his chest, following his veins to his fingertips and his toes, the desire for the demon that was being forced to give service to a crooked angel.  
“…Morningstar…” Crowley’s face was red, his vein’s popping again as he bit and rubbed at Lucifer’s cock with his mouth and teeth. Sam, too, let out a shakey breath hearing it. As soon as Crowley said it, Lucifer lifted his hips up with a sharp grunt and fell back to the bed panting thru pursed lips.  
“Phew that was close… I almost made a mess of your face, puppy.” Lucifer smiled as he held Crowley’s chin. Sam's jaw clenched. What he couldn't understand was why... why he was getting jealous. No one should touch Crowley like that... abuse him like that. Crowley should be the one doing the abusing. Yet Sam also felt a small fire inside him burn over Lucifer. A being he should have no cause to be near willingly.  
“Thank you,” Crowley said in mock servitude. Lucifer tilted his head.  
“Thank you, what?”  
Crowley fought with something in his throat. Defiance clawing at every fiber of his being to not fall into the part he is being forced to play. However, he is also prudednt. Being the way he is, he would play the game until he saw a proper opening to exploit. “Thank you… my lord.”  
“Good boy,’ Lucifer turned his head toward Sam. “Come on, Sammy. Don’t be bashful. My puppy needs someone to help his little problem.” Lucifer said as he appraised the hardness tenting the front of Crowley's trousers. Crowley couldn't even bring himself to look at either Lucifer or Sam. His eyes downcast as he felt Sam come closer. It isn't because he is broken. He just didn't want them to see how much he wanted it. Physical show be damned but Lucifer would use how he actually feels about Gigantor against him. Right now Lucifer is guessing. Or has a good idea of it. Sam came closer. Crowley felt him... and the scent of his blood coming closer. The taste of it in the air is tantilizing. When Sam was close enough to Crowley, the former King reacted like a magnet to metal.  
Sam seen that Crowley's eyes had gone blood red again, as if his demon essense is spilling over because his vessel could no longer contain it. Crowley brought his mouth, streaming a slight mist of red from the corners as he moved, to Sam's neck where there still lingered some blood. His lips fastened over the streaks of blood and sucked hard to make Sam wince and draw breath between his teeth.  
"Give me some." Sam demanded, his chest heaving. Sam was looking down at Lucifer, who watched with fascination, as Crowley crawled his hands up over Sam's stomach, chest, neck and chin until his right hand fingers drew gentle circles around Sam's quivering lips before pushing into the eager and hot mouth.  
Copper and skin seduced Sam's olfactory senses. His eyes fluttered shut and the beast that was in him finally came all the way out. Before he could reasonably form a word to say what he was feeling or wanted, now it was hard to even say little things. Crowley had grabbed the nape of Sam's hair. Crowley's neck and left wrist may still be shackled to Lucifer's person, but that did not stop him from pushing Sam down and gettng behind him.  
Lucifer laughed in pleasure at the dominance display. Somehow he wasn't surprised Crowley is the alpha in that little pair. What made it funnier and more entertaining is Sam is such a manly man that he instinctively didn't want to lose that machoism to another man. He scrambled forward, fully aware of where he was going. Perhaps he didn't know exactly what he was doing. He appeared a bit delerious. Would Sam purposely climb over the Morningstar? Lucifer liked that even though Sam wanted it, he didn't want it at the same time. The war he is experiencing just in that few seconds he felt Crowley's hands moving to pull the back of his jeans down was more violent than the civil war in heaven and that is saying something.  
"Stay, Sam. Puppy wants to play." Lucifer grabbed Sam's sides and held him there. Lucifer looked passed Sam at Crowley, who had the front of his trousers open and the front of his dress shirt open, exposing a bare chest covered in tattoos and hair. The deep red tie was pulled apart and the wider end was drapped over Sam's back. "You heard him, dog... he wants some. You have to give it to him."  
"I'm not your damned dog!" Crowley growled, eyes wide. He leaned over Sam's back, his thick hands tracing the contours of Sam's torso, feeling ever muscle, every bone, all the delicious blood flowing thru it. He moaned softly as his hardness pressed against Sam's backside. The way Sam's back came up in reaction, lifting Crowley slightly.  
Flesh on Flesh, Sam can feel the hairs and skin of Crowley's chest and belly slicking with sweat. He clutched the bed around Lucifer's head and pressed his face down into Lucifer's chest as he let out a defeated yet wanton whimper as Crowley's fingers came to explore the place he intended to invade. He tried to stem the feeling of heated tingles running up his loins as Crowley's fingers poked and prodded him. Sam bit at the upper portion of Lucifer's shirt just under his jaw as he clenched to the feeling of Crowley slowly pushing his middle finger inside Sam.  
Lucifer got this glint in his eyes as he watched the men over him. He shifted his legs as best he could so that Sam was between his spread thighs. He reached down as far as he could and pushed Sam downward, forcing Crowley's finger in deeper. The reaction was breath taking. Sam cried with his teeth biting down on Lucifer's shirt. Lucifer wondered if Sam's reaction was like this with a finger... what sort of hot mess would he be in if Crowley actually stuck his dick in there.  
"Bite him..." Lucifer brushed the hair off Sam's upper back and neck and pointed at the skin, Crowley followed his motion and with no thought of what he was doing, Crowley lunged forward and bit down on Sam's back. More blood bloomed into Crowley's mouth as Sam cried out again in pain and pleasure.  
Lucifer did not need to help Sam at this point. Sam pushed himself back on the finger inside him. Lucifer could feel the hardness of Sam's manhood brushing against his own and he looked between them. Lucifer's vessel is not lean in the slightest. His body is strength with softness that belied his personality. Unlike Sam's who is just a wellspring of tight and quivering muscles.  
Lucifer lifted his hips up, his hardness pressing to Sam's. Lucifer is sure he felt Sam's groin tremble to the touch. Sam's mouth came away from Lucifer's shirt and his lower lip trembled as he stared into Lucifer's face. Lucifer smiles a little and reaches up to take Sam's hand... his right one specifically, and gently cupped the hand in his own, guiding it downward between them. Without breaking eye contact, Lucifer winked.  
"Release me..." Lucifer whispered. Sam was looking at Lucifer's lips, all the while Crowley is still rubbing Sam's prostate with his finger and biting and sucking at Sam's back. Sam watched Lucifer's mouth form little words intended to seduce him and he wondered if it was supposed to be some sort of spell because his hand did go, seemingly willingly, into Lucifer's clothing and pulled a long, hard and heavy cock that twitched in his palm.  
Lucifer's body quivered to the touch. His eyes flickered red for a moment and some ethereal light blossomed over his face as he arched his back off the bed and opened his mouth in a silent moan. Sam felt the sides of his eyes sting. A great many things were coming into his head all at once. Such things as... This body under him is Nick. If Nick is there, he may see what is happening to his body. What Lucifer is making him do. That is not what Lucifer actually looks like. And truthfully the real Lucifer is terrifying. Yet...The combination of what Lucifer really is, and the vessel he is occupying... it made a rather beautiful pair.  
Sam closed his eyes and turned his head. He didn't want to feel like that toward Lucifer. He is an evil and manipulative liar. Sam's focus switched from Lucifer to Crowley, who is not much different that Lucifer other than what they are. Yet Sam already came to grips with how he felt about Crowley despite what he has done. Fingers touched Sam's face and his attention was brought back to Lucifer, who looked at him closely. His lips slightly parted as his gaze bounded between Sam's eyes and his mouth.  
"Don't fall for it-" Crowley whispered behind Sam's head. Lucifer didn’t hear it, nor did Sam as Lucifer brought their mouths together. The joining of their lips set off a wildfire inside Sam and his toes curled. He never knew it was possible to really get kissed like that, where your toes literally curl but whatever Lucifer did... whatever spell he is working... Sam felt himself melt into it.  
Crowley watched in indignation. Lucifer's hands coming up to cup the back of Sam's neck. Sam's long hair dangling over Lucifer's fingers. Lucifer's thumbs tracing soft lines against Sam's jaw. The expression on Sam's face as he is kissed was rarely ever seen in the history of kissing. Not so far as Crowley could recollect. And Sam is making that face to the kiss of a complete and utter dickless novice! If it weren’t for that vessel, Lucifer would never know what that feels like. It’s a good thing that for the moment, Crowley wasn't aware that Sam's hand was gripping Lucifer's cock that was throbbing and slightly oozing. Still, the kiss was bad enough. Crowley put his hands-on Sam's shoulders and tried to pull him back. Away from Lucifer.  
"That is mine!" Crowley hissed petulantly. For his troubles, Lucifer pushed Sam aside and grabbed Crowley's collar. He threw Crowley to the other side of him to his back and in a flash of limbs, Lucifer was on Crowley, pressing him to the bed. Lucifer grabbed Crowley's jaw and made the demon look at him. Anger on his face. Anger mixed with pleasure and excitement.  
"He is mine... as are you! And I will do what I want with my property. Look at him..." Lucifer pushed Crowley’s head to the side to make him look at Sam. Sam lay on his side shaking, his eyes shadowed as he whimpered and panted. All he could do was move his mouth. No sound came out, but Crowley could feel him. His lust so high he is rendered motionless. Rest assured, this behavior is something Lucifer did to him. The Sam that Crowley knows would not be that quivering mess on the bed.  
"He wants me. But here is the thing. I can't be too rough with him. He is human. If I do to him what I want... I will kill him. Even if he is hopped up on your demon juice. And I cannot have that. So... guess who is going to take the brunt of my love?" Lucifer wrapped an arm around Crowley's left leg and brought it up so that Crowley's leg rested on his shoulder. Crowley's eyes bugged, no way that was going to happen. Crowley takes, he doesn't give! Yet Lucifer had no issue in burying his face in Crowley's chest, smelling him, licking his nipples and biting his pectorals hard enough to leave teeth marks but never breaking the skin.  
Crowley grunted. Despite what he feels is appropriate of him as King, he was shocked to hear that keening sound that came out of his mouth. Lucifer delved deep into the smaller man and lay flat on him, his hips moving back and forth as his other hand came up and grabbed the hair at the top of Crowley's head. Crowley's hips moved against Lucifer. Their clothing making soft material sounds in the room, the springs of the bed creaking slightly as Lucifer thrust against him. Lucifer moved upward so that his mouth hovered over Crowley's and he smiled again. Winked and quickly got to his knees to pull off the brown jacket and then the shirt under it exposing his chest and belly and his cock stood stiff and dripping as he panted.  
"Watch this, Sam... this is how you tame someone like Crowley." He reached down and grabbed everything around Crowley's waist and yanked it down, dragging the demon down the bed a little as his clothes came away. Before Crowley could even think of massing an effort to stop this, Lucifer had his hips between Crowley's legs, forcing them apart. Crowley moaned and tried to crawl backward, frustration on his face, his eyes blazing as a mist of red flew up from his mouth. Crowley was trying to leave his vessel. But because he still had the cuff on one hand and the collar around his neck, it didn't work, and the mist snapped back into his mouth with a tutt and head shake from Lucifer.  
"You should have known that wasn't going to work." Lucifer slapped Crowley across the face hard enough to make his head snap to the side and blood to sprinkle the bed covers. But before he could recover, Lucifer put his hand tight over Crowley's mouth and hushed him. Lucifer looked down and observed Crowley's nakedness. Looking at the swollen shaft that stood and throbbed. The coarse dark hair that surrounded it and he smiled. He liked to look at it for some reason. He wasn't sure why. Probably because Crowley hates it. Even though Crowley hated it, he still throbbed and twitched just being looked at. Imagine touching it... Lucifer mused. But this was all part of the game. Lucifer has touched Crowley before. But the act still brought the 'first time' feeling every time. Lucifer licked his teeth.  
"You're a naughty boy. Look at how eager you are... such a little whore." Lucifer said as he ran his thumb along the underside of Crowley's cock, down to his balls and to his taint. All of it was pulsing and quivering. Crowley moaned, but it was muffled by Lucifer's hand. Lucifer laughs and dips his thumb into Crowley. The smaller man’s reaction is heart stopping. His blood red eyes closed, and his brow pinched as if in the grip of pain. But far from hurting, Crowley was too used to Lucifer pushing his thumb in there to feel pain. However, Lucifer never seemed as excited as he is now.  
Sam, unable to move and with one circling thought in his head that he wanted Lucifer repeating in his head although another part of him wanted Crowley. The taste of his scotch tongue and demon blood. The way he feels against him. Sam only mildly came to his senses when Lucifer slapped Crowley across the face and little flecks of Crowley's blood hit the bed in front of Sam's face.  
His attention averted to the blood; Sam lifted a shaking hand to touch the droplet closest to him. He let the red cover the tip of his finger as he smeared it and brought it to his tongue and licked it. It was like taking a hit... a high balling train, just that little bit. The torture must be making Crowley's blood a little more potent. Even with his limited ability, Sam was able to wriggle the rest of the way out of his jeans and crawl over on hands and knees near Lucifer.  
Sam was watching with curiosity as Lucifer fingered at Crowley. Lucifer looked between Sam and where his hand is and smiled.  
"Do you want me to shove my dick in there?" Lucifer asked. Sam's mouth opened as if he had been struck in the gut as he looked up at the other's face. again, his mouth and throat seemed to fight to form words he would never normally speak, but when he did... he is breathless, pining. Lucifer really appreciated the sound of it.  
"Y... yes..." Sam said and sat back only a little to reach another drop of Crowley's blood on the bed and pop it into his mouth. Lucifer brought his attention back to Crowley and smiled with a shrug.  
"You heard him...' Lucifer leaned back ever so slightly and angled his chin down and spat down on Crowley, the warmth of the spit quickly cooled although everything on Crowley burned with rage and lust. His blood eyes shifting back and forth between Lucifer and Sam. He tried to speak or curse them out, but Lucifer's hand was too tight over his mouth. "Sammy... my hands are a bit full.' Lucifer asked. One hand holding Crowley's mouth and the other keeping Crowley's legs open. "Be a dear and uh... help daddy put the sword in the sheath."  
Crowley tried to detach himself from his vessel. But with the shackles it would not work. Not only that, Angels are adept at keeping demons in their host, even pushing them back in. Crowley writhed as he watched in mortified horror, Sam lean over and reach to Lucifer's cock.  
Sam guided it down and Lucifer lowered his body, releasing Crowley's leg and lay over him, their faces level. Crowley felt the swollen, hard head of Lucifer's cock press against him and he moaned slightly... yeah, he is a little bit afraid and a lot angry at this violation. He is willing to admit it. His lips tried to move under Lucifer's palm.  
"This is going to hurt." Lucifer whispered and he bit his bottom lip as he thrust forward, impaling himself inside Crowley.  
Sam watched as Lucifer pushed into Crowley with one thrust and Crowley's muscles tighten from pain and the vein on the center of Crowley's forehead bulge. An expression flitted across his face that Sam has never seen. Crowley’s brow was furrowed, and his mouth was open as he drew in a deep breath. His blood eyes closed, and his voice ripped from him despite Lucifer's hand holding the sound from coming out. Then he noticed the light consume Lucifer's face again as it did when Sam's hand touched his cock.  
Lucifer looked as if he had never felt anything quite like that. Confused and not displeased as he pulled back and pushed in deeper. And as pelvis met pelvis, both Lucifer and Crowley groaned hard and loud. Sam was taken aback slightly when he turned his head and could see the reflection of Lucifer's tattered wings like a shadow stretch out behind him against the wall.  
It was the sound of Lucifer's moan that brought back Sam's attention to what was happening before him. Lucifer delved deep and hard into Crowley repeatedly, his thigh muscles quivering as he strained to hit at a specific angle. The sounds are guttural. Desperate. Sam didn't even think they sounded human at all. And Sam, who had never taken a man into himself, thought for a moment that Crowley, despite the discomfort he displayed, looked like he knew what to do. Like he and the sensation of having his insides pulled apart by a large and invading cock are old lovers. If Sam didn't know better, he would say that this was a boon for Crowley, who would already know how to ease the discomfort. Even enjoy it after a fashion. But his face didn't say that at all.  
Crowley's expression though half his face is hidden in Lucifer's palm, is sheer venom. Hatred and anger filling his eyes as his own hips rocked upward to keep time with Lucifer. Sam could not tell if Crowley was being forced but he could not deny he is intensely interested in it. Sam's long thin fingers touched his own dick, feeling the hardness and length before wrapping his hand around it and started pulling softly as he watched every portion of Lucifer and Crowley's bodies move together one limb at a time.  
While one hand worked himself, Sam slipped his hand between the two and took Crowley's hard flesh, dripping and throbbing, and started to squeeze it, feeling the blood move thru it, warm and quick. He brought his hand up along the length, feeling the veins, his palm slicking the precum to a fine lubricant so that his hand slid easily up and down on the heavy cock. Sam always marveled at how Crowley feels in his hand. The thick skin moving up over the head and down as Sam shifted his grip.

Crowley closed his eyes and he moaned much more human like when Sam touched him. Lucifer liked it, looked at Sam as if he were impressed.  
"Keep doing that, Sam... I am going to hit him right where it counts, and we can watch the little King wriggle..." Lucifer whispered huskily and actually pulled his hand off Crowley's face to hold himself up. Lucifer's hips moved fluidly in a slight upward angle. The spot that Lucifer found inside Crowley caused the King to react spectacularly.  
The sound that came out of Crowley is indecent, lecherous, filthy. It made Lucifer laugh thru a moan as he plowed into him and watched the way Crowley's face changed from anger to unwilling pleasure. Crowley kept opening his mouth as if he was going to make a sound, but nothing would come out unless Lucifer hit him hard inside. Sam's hand filled with Crowley's cock, crawled forward and looked down on the king, closely observing the way his expression shifted and Sam was able to tell when it was at the point of no return.  
Only when that moment happened and Lucifer wrapped his fingers up in Crowley’s and pinned that hand to the bed over Crowley's head, Crowley opened his eyes and looked at Sam. Sam, again, felt as though he had been struck in the midriff. Something about the way Crowley looked at him had taken the air right out of him. A sense of euphoria hit Sam as he gazed back.  
"Crowley..." Sam wasn't sure what he was going to say... or what he felt at the moment, all he knew is he wanted to - leaning forward, Sam pushed himself between Lucifer and Crowley and kissed the demon misted mouth under him. Sam's hand came away from Crowley's cock and pressed against his heaving, sweaty chest.  
"I hate you..." Sam huffed out as his mouth came away from Crowley's long enough to force the words out. Tongues moving to complement each other Crowley groaned and before Sam's mouth came back down to seal their kiss again, Crowley muttered,  
"Keep talking dirty to me-" Crowley's eyes flickered between demon and human as he looked closely at Sam between his eyes and his mouth.  
Lucifer watched with mild indignation.  
"I used to be so disgusted by this. I couldn't understand why humans felt the need to screw so often.' Lucifer whispered as his other hand came up to run deft fingers thru Sam's hair softly, gently before grabbing a fist full of it and yanked Sam up away from Crowley. The man and Demon hissed at the parting as they both looked at Lucifer, who was obviously pissed at the way they seemed to forget he was there.  
"But now I see the appeal. It's best when there's someone taking control. When someone is directing it. I'm the master... and you won't do anything unless I say. " Lucifer released Sam and instantly Sam's body was pushed to the bed by an unseen force. His head hit the blankets with his backside up in the air, his hands pinned between his own knees. Sam's brow is furrowed and his eyes swimming with fear and confusion but all he could do is look at Crowley.  
When Lucifer had Sam subdued, Lucifer resumed his treatment on Crowley. He forced Crowley's head to the side facing Sam and pressed it there, his palm and fingers digging in to keep Crowley still. Lucifer took several deep breaths thru his nose and the entire room rattled, the ornate chandelier overhead rocked and tinkled with whatever power emanated from him. The lights flickered and he thrust forward hard. With enough momentum to push Crowley up the bed a few inches. Crowley nearly howled as Lucifer hit that sensitive spot deep inside. It was like a direct hit, for someone who had so little experience.  
Crowley's back came off the bed, though limited because Lucifer was holding his head down. Strange things were happening in the room, like the walls seemed to be bellowsing with... Lucifer? Crowley? They both seemed to be breathing the same way, deep and slow with the room. Crowley's lips quivered and his eyes closed and for an instant Sam was unsure whether he seen it, but he was almost sure he saw a quick flash of what happens to demons when being stabbed by an angel blade.  
Crowley’s insides seemed to light up, as if a violent lightning storm was deep inside him, reacting to Lucifer's inward thrusts and connection was made to that place inside. It was as if Lucifer knew where the seat of all Crowley's demonic nature, his person, his essence lay and he hit it hard trying to break it. Lucifer gave a sort laugh as he redoubled his efforts, shifting his weight for what Sam believed was a home run and Lucifer knew it. Perhaps Crowley did too and that is why Crowley closed his eyes, not wanting to look at Sam as it happened.  
Lucifer's head tipped back, and his eyes closed too. He slowed his pace, torturously slow. His hand came away from Crowley's head and slid down his heaving chest where it rested against his sternum. Lucifer's air changed slightly... the physical pleasure of the touch becoming much more meaningful as he slid into Crowley and out without feeling resistance.  
Sam shifted his eyes to Lucifer and was surprised that he looked nothing like himself in that moment. His face was pink from exertion and his brow pinched with confusion. The sound that came out of him is higher, less sadistic as he looked down and his blue eyes brimmed with fear and dazed like he had been sucker punched.  
"W... what the-" He looked down and all around as if he didn't know where he was or what he had been doing. Crowley suddenly could move. He grabbed Lucifer by the neck and flipped him over so that Crowley was sitting over him, sunk all the way down on the hardness inside him. His hands around Lucifer's neck. "W... wait! I don't know what’s happening!"  
"Crowley - that’s not Lucifer!" Sam suddenly spoke. He too was able to move. He jumped up and grabbed Crowley's shoulders trying to get him to snap out of the frenzy he was in. Crowley didn't seem to care at that moment.  
"I don't care! This little uphill gardener is going to pay - one way or the other!"  
"M...my name is Nick! I'm not Lucifer!" Nick struggled to accept the position he is in and the realization that he was having sex with another man. But beyond that he was more afraid of Crowley in that moment, who had his hands around his neck.  
"That’s a bit too late and too sorry for you, Nicky... I don't care if you are the pope of Rome." Crowley leaned forward and bit Nick's jaw, roughly dug up Nick's chest with his nails and finished it with a bell ringing slap to the face. Nick cried out and shifted on the bed, trying to scramble backward and pull out of Crowley, but Crowley would not let him.  
"No please! I'm sorry for what he was doing!" The chains that hung around Crowley's wrists is tossed around Nick's neck and held tight just short of choking him and he gagged. His blue eyes rolling as if he was about to pass out.  
"Crowley, you can't!" Sam said as he wrapped an arm around the smaller man's shoulders attempting to hold him back.  
"Bollocks I can't... This will be my only chance to make him pay for this indignity - I will take it!" A hand came up to the side of Crowley's face and his head was turned. He was looking at Sam.  
"That isn't Lucifer!"  
"I don't care, Moose!' Crowley moved his hips and jerked the chain around Nick's neck. Nick yelped a little but was oddly still, but for the little he writhed as Crowley slid up and down on him. Nick opened his mouth in response to a particularly slow and hot insertion. It’s been so long... The sensation of the heat around his groin, the chain at his neck, all out of being pushed to the front of consciousness.  
Up until now he felt very little, only somewhat seeing what Lucifer was doing to others and unable to stop it. Right now, he felt an apex of pressure in his lower belly and his balls cramped up and he tightened in a precursor of an orgasm. His fingers hooked down into claws that dug into Crowley's thighs. Nick let out a low long groan as his hips locked upward and his toes curled. He felt as if his light was leaving him. Small sparks flashed in his eyes as his airway was cut off and his entire groin exploded with an explosion of his seed inside the man on his lap.  
"Oooh oh god... oooh..." Nick rasped out on the tail end of a whine that sounded slightly strangled. He kept repeating it as if it was a mantra until Crowley's fingers slipped from around the chain, shaking as he looked down at ... Nick. Some part of him is excited but also a bit annoyed that it wasn't Lucifer.  
"He's not here so you'll have to leave a message, darling." Crowley said. He was sure at some point in that second after he finished speaking that he meant to say something else. So why is his throat suddenly locked, his tongue against the roof of his mouth? Crowley lifted his hand to his throat as if something was stuck in there. Like he was gagging on something.  
"What’s happening?" Sam asked. Crowley looked down and received a slight but not all together encompassing shock to see the red eyes glaring back at him with a snarl. Nick was no longer there, and the chain was being pulled away from Lucifer's neck slowly as if he wanted to make sure Crowley understood he was not happy about the chain being put around his neck when he wasn't in charge. Lucifer looked at the chain as it dangled from his hand. He can still feel the seed he shot up inside Crowley leaking down or trying to leak down his hardness. Let’s be honest, there isn't a lot of room in there. Crowley is quite tight.  
"You're not quite as mopped out as I expected you to be." Lucifer grinned, but far from looking pleasant, it was horrible for those who could not look him in the face. Lucifer through the chain, instead of around Crowley's neck, around Sam's neck and yanked him down so that Sam's head was pressed to Lucifer's stomach. "Now that was hardly fair to strangle when I wasn't behind the wheel. And to force me to cum inside you? I wanted to feel that myself. You greedy little bitch!"  
Lucifer took Crowley by the collar and held him there. Not that he needed the collar to subdue him, it was just for extra insurance. Sam gagged and moaned with the chain squeezing his neck. Lucifer started thrusting up hard and fast. As soon as he did, Crowley's eyes rolled back in an awe of pleasure.   
"Now... that Satan has... taken the wheel... pleasure me!" Lucifer grunted. He felt lingering oversensitivity from Nick orgasming, but he was not willing to stop, the heat and wetness is alluring. Sam's fingers digging his side excited him, the way Crowley's head lolled back, and his hair covered chest heaved with every bone jarring thrust, balls deep, hitting the epicenter, it is enough to make Lucifer bust his nut again. But he is going to hold off... just a little more. He wants to see something happen first.  
Hearing the short gasps from Crowley told Lucifer the man was not going to last much longer, and it was enough motivation to redouble his efforts, only... this time he grabbed the back of Sam's head and turned it, so they looked at one another.  
"I don't want his corruption on me... So, make sure you catch it all. I see one spec of his filth on me... I will have to punish you." Lucifer forced Sam's face down toward Crowley's crotch, the hard heaviness bobbing just over Sam's cheek. Sam made a sound of aggravation and lewdness as the heat that emanated from Crowley's and Lucifer's groins nearly burned his face.  
"No - you bastard!" Crowley growled and gasped as if he had been splashed with ice cold water, but as he did, a thick rope of his seed shot out and over Sam's face. It was like lava, it steamed yet did not burn. Sam flinched as another thick rope of Crowley's milt draped over his eye and in his hair. Sam was able to open his other eye in enough time to see the white bead of another rope convulsively appear on the edge of Crowley's cock as the demon murmured inarticulately.  
Lucifer rolled his head back in a soft laugh as he watched with great avidity, the collapse of Crowley's vainglorious and elitist demeanor. It didn't just break... it shattered. It’s amazing how just a little subjugation can completely unseat a self-proclaimed King. Imagine what that pressure can do to Sam, who is neither a demon nor an angel.  
Lucifer looked back down to where his hand forced Sam's face down on the thickness of Crowley's sizable cock. Sam's muscles, his skin, slick with sweat and the way his air drew into his lungs thru his nose excited Lucifer. He can tell, that even though Sam is being forced, the man liked the abuse. With every deep breath, Sam would let it out in a jarring and spasming whimper, the sound of his throat working to take all what Crowley has, into it.  
"There is so much... catch it all! Swallow it if you have to!" Lucifer said in a breathy whisper as he enjoyed the walls of Crowley's insides quiver and tremble as he drew out his orgasm. Sam, as if he had been hit with a whip, lunged forward and slipped his mouth down over Crowley's cock just as Crowley let out another stream and the sound of his pleasure changed a little. His strong thick hands came down and grabbed at Sam's hair, his fingers twining in it along with Lucifer's.  
With both hands to the back of his head, pushing him forward, Sam gagged on Crowley's cock that was now hitting the back of his throat. His fingers hooked down on Lucifer's stomach, feeling the light hairs on his palm as he did, feeling the muscles working every time he pushed upward into Crowley. Sam's eyes closed hard against the invasion of his mouth until he felt a hand come away from his head and it found its way between his thighs, cupping his balls softly, tenderly. Sam opened his mouth and tried to moan out loud, but his mouth was too full, and it came out garbled.  
Lucifer wrenched Crowley to the side. He landed on the bed, his entire groin on fire, he lay panting for a moment before Lucifer dragged him across the bed without even putting a hand on him. The bigger man was on his knees again, his cock wet and throbbing as he yanked Sam to him by the hair.  
“You two are so much fun! So, what do we do next?’ Lucifer pulled Sam up beside him, his face a mess with Crowley’s cum. Lucifer pushed some stray hairs out of Sam’s face and smiled at him indulgently. “Should I let Crowley take your ass? Or… should I take you?” Lucifer looked between his own cock and Crowley’s as if seeing which one would be better.  
“Mine is longer… his is thicker. I guess its all up to you, Sam. Do you want to be ripped apart or spit roasted?” Lucifer asked with a burlesque shake of his shoulders and wiggling eyebrows. His playful self-coming back for the moment as he joshed Sam for an answer. But all Sam could do was kneel next to Lucifer and shake, his lips quivering like he was cold, looking down at Crowley.   
“Oh, don’t worry about it. Just because Crowley could take me in, doesn’t mean you can. I bet that little ass is a virgin ass. His ass…’ Lucifer pointed at the man on his back in front of him. “Is not virgin. Not at all. Even before I took him.”   
Lucifer’s lower lip pooched out as if he was upset by the way Sam is reacting. Seeing the struggle Sam is having at choosing which meat he was going to take in. So, he took pity.   
“Okay, we will do it this way then.” Lucifer said softly and yanked Sam in front of him by the arm. A tangle of limbs ensued before Lucifer pushed Sam down on top of Crowley, bending him over with a large hand at the base of Sam’s back and neck and again, leaning back slightly to let a stream of hot spittle slide down the center of Sam’s backside. Lucifer licked his lips as he watched it stream down and cover the entrance nicely before he jostled behind Sam and pressed himself against Sam’s opening.  
“If you need some comfort, Sammy… Get it from Crowley. He knows what you are about to feel. Although-‘ Lucifer leaned over so his chest was flat against Sam’s back and his chin rested on Sam’s shoulder and he hissed in Sam’s ear. “You have never had a cock up there, have you? This is going to be a lot worse for you. Sorry…” Lucifer said and not sounding it at all. He licked up the side of Sam’s face and again Sam felt the split in Lucifer’s tongue as it traced the contours of his angular face. Rough tongue against the roughness of Sam’s facial hair.   
Lucifer’s arms came around Sam’s midriff and one hand came down to hold the hardness between Sam’s thighs and he thrust his cock inside with a howl that he didn’t expect to come out of himself. Sam screamed… oh he screamed loud and long. But Lucifer had too. Touching him wasn’t like touching Crowley. It could be the fact that Sam has never taken another man into himself, he is very tight. Maybe it has something to do with the fact Sam is his vessel. Who knows? All Lucifer knew is it is an interesting outcome. Lucifer huffed and pushed in a little more. He can feel Sam resisting, every muscle in his body taught as he groaned with his mouth closed, his head hanging forward and his hair in his face as he dangled over Crowley.   
“Come on, Sam… don’t fight, you’ll make it worse, just let daddy in.” Lucifer panted as he wrapped his arms up and around Sam’s shoulders for leverage. He pulled back on Sam while thrusting forward and Sam tossed his head back with a cry of pain… and oh… a little pleasure. Lucifer could hear it plain as day. Lucifer did not stop. He wanted to hear Sam cry out more. Lucifer’s eyes flickered from blue to red and back and his face brightened – almost a reflection of his true self under the face Nick gave him as he looked tauntingly down on Crowley.   
Thrusting forward like a punctuation to every dirty taunt he can make toward Crowley because Lucifer knew Crowley to really have a thing for Sam and he’s trying to deny it. Truth is, every time Lucifer pushed into and pulled out, rubbing that hard prostate inside Sam, Crowley grew more and more angered.   
Sam’s eyes fluttered open, his eyes large and glassy as he looked down at Crowley. His pain is paramount, and he could not make sound come out of his mouth now. Not only did it hurt, but it feels intensely good and all anyone had to do is look down between his legs to see that. Sam tried to say something to Crowley and the vowel sounds made no sense when mixed with harsh expectorations of air and the raucous sounds Lucifer was making with his mouth pressed against Sam’s shoulder.   
“…p…please… *sigh*… please…” Sam managed to whisper out. His breath coursing over Crowley’s face. Sam’s head fell forward and his hair too went into Crowley’s face. Crowley’s hands were free and all he had to do was break Sam’s neck to put him out of his misery. Yet… Crowley slowly brought his unshackled hand up and pushed some of the hair out of Sam’s face and looked in his eyes. That would be far too wasteful. Instead, Crowley bit his fingers again, the same ones that Lucifer bit earlier and they started bleeding afresh. He gently, unlike himself in nature, brought his fingers up to Sam’s mouth and allowed the bigger man to take his fingers in between his lips. And when the metallic taste of Crowley’s poisonous blood hit Sam’s tongue, any pain or fear he may have felt, left.   
Crowley reasoned that neither he or Sam are going to be strong enough to fight Lucifer right now, may as well go with it and give Sam some release. Even allow his senses to go crazy enough to want it. Sam’s eyes rolled and fluttered and the soft whimpers and cries he made before started to become guttural. Animalistic. His entire facial expression changed, and he sucked on Crowley’s fingers with relish. Even moving his body to compliment Lucifer. Actually pushing back on the cock inside him and Lucifer was only momentarily staggered before he rose up a little and grabbed Sam’s shoulders near the base of his neck and slammed his cock inside him so hard Crowley was sure if Sam wasn’t made of stronger stuff, his pelvis would have shattered.   
“Oh see…’ Lucifer grunted. “I knew you cared enough to not want me to hurt your precious little moose.” He laughed and then plunged his teeth into Sam’s shoulder, almost as if an animal would to hold his mate down and Lucifer hit Sam even harder, driving the long and lanky man down on top of Crowley.  
So many things were happening all at once, it looked like a scramble. Sam, although far less afraid with Crowley’s blood rocketing thru him, still attempted to pull up and off of Lucifer’s cock, but now he is pressed against Crowley, their cocks side by side and he had to wonder if Lucifer did that on purpose. Crowley wasn’t fighting at all. Sam thought he must not be able to because Lucifer has him subdued by the cuffs and collar.   
Lucifer is on top of the other two, driving into Sam as hard as he can, which is pushing Sam forward and back with every thrust and retreat. Causing friction to blossom sexily between Sam and Crowley’s cocks. In fact… Crowley’s hips moved against Sam with every thrust from Lucifer that forced Sam to move also. Sam can feel that thick python of a dick pulsing and hot pressed alongside his own admittedly smaller one and it felt amazing. The feeling of Lucifer biting and licking his back driving him crazy so that he too moved his hips as best he could considering.   
“Sam… I do you, you do me…” Crowley said as he looked up at Sam’s face that was framed by his long tresses. At first Crowley thought that Sam was going to let him suffer this on his own. Sam just looked down at him and bit his own lip. Grunting as Lucifer hit him particularly hard and deep. It wasn’t until Sam lowered himself on Crowley and kissed him ardently on the mouth that Crowley tasted the blood. It has been a long time since Crowley had been kissed quite like that and even with Sam’s blood coursing thru him now, his body seemed to fill with a heat that revived him. His demon mist coming out from his closed eyelids. It even came out in small drifts when either he or Sam shifted their mouths to get in the kiss deeper to allow their tongues a chance to dance. Sam moaned prettily in Crowley’s mouth as his hands came up and clutched at Crowley’s hair. The sounds of their facial hair scratching together could only be heard by them but it oddly excited them more.  
Sam and Crowley seemed almost to forget again for a moment that Lucifer was there, ripping Sam apart on the inside until a particularly exasperated yell came out of Lucifer’s mouth and he reared back again, that light, brighter than before came over his face and half his upper torso. Only Crowley could see it this time as his demon eyes watched angel wings open up behind Lucifer in his little temper at the undeniable yet disturbing bond between his two pets.   
“Not – ‘ Lucifer said thru his teeth, ‘without- ‘ Lucifer’s eyes turned red again “-ME!” He bellowed and as he did, a strong gust shifted everything in the room, the chandelier shook again, Sam’s hair blew crazily about his face as he pulled his mouth away from Crowley’s. It’s like Lucifer’s wings had beat against the air, disturbing everything as he gripped Sam’s hips and pushed in all the way to the hilt and ground his hips in short circles against Sam’s prostate.   
Sam went crazy, his hips canting against Crowley fast as if he couldn’t stop himself. His already hard and throbbing penis getting harder, reacting lively to the feeling of Crowley getting harder and animated. Sam scrambled against Crowley and Lucifer as if he didn’t quite no what to do. Hopped up on demon blood or not, nothing would have prepared him for this. The only thing Crowley did was make it, so it was far less traumatizing in the moment, which in hindsight was a generous move considering. But as Crowley slid his hands up Sam’s sides to hold on to him, his chest heaving and his breath coming out in shorter gusts, Sam realized that Crowley couldn’t have done more for him. Whatever their relationship was or is… Sam would not be able to look at the King of Hell the same way ever again.   
Lucifer found that spot inside Sam that made him squirm like a worm on a hook and he hit it over and over, enjoying the way Sam’s body writhed and bucked to it. It made Lucifer feel so powerful. Almost vindicated. His chest puffed up as he extended his wings more and his face, beautifully luminescent, tilted back and the most gorgeous and haunting sound came out of him with a powerful shot of light that filled the room as he came again, forcing Sam to take it all in the way Crowley had. Only… Lucifer had not really felt it with Crowley, he sensed it… but he wanted Nick to feel it. Why torture himself if he isn’t going to go all in and commit?   
It’s sacrilegious, the things he had done and how Sam and Crowley looked at him, as the light died down to a dull throb over his forehead and cheeks. And at the moment Sam could no longer take the filling of his insides, he too, for the first time tonight, came all over Crowley’s stomach with a harsh cry that sounded more like he had been shot than pleasured. And as soon as Sam’s seed, hot and pure, touched Crowley’s skin, the demon gave his own contribution to the mix, his hips bucking hard enough to lift both Sam and Lucifer slightly as he rode out the pleasure with a final growl and his eyes going from blood red to his normal placid brown.   
The room seemed to still, all air died down as Sam can be heard from between Lucifer and Crowley, panting and whimpering slightly. The light gone but for the electrical kind. Lucifer’s red glowing eyes returned to their natural blue as he slowly and carefully pulled back. He crawled over to the side of the other two and took the abandoned cuff and before Crowley could really react, not that he could do much with the collar on anyway, Lucifer put the cuff back on him.  
“That’s … a … good doggy.” Lucifer panted with a sly smirk. He reached down and moved a bit of Sam’s hair out of his face and smiled wider. “I do believe I tuckered him out.” He rolled Sam off Crowley and slid off the bed with Crowley’s chains in his hand and yanked the former King off the bed so that Crowley fell on the floor.  
“You need to take a bath. You’re filthy.” Lucifer said and snapped his fingers. Demons answered his call and as he smiled down at Crowley, who was partially naked and covered in cum, the demons smirked, and Lucifer pet the top of Crowley’s head. “Give my pet a bath. He is messy. Make sure you dress him in his finest. I may want to play with him again later.”  
One of the demons stepped forward and took the chain into his hand and his partner looked at Sam on the bed.  
“What about the Winchester boy?” She asked.  
Lucifer looked back at the bed with Sam laying on his side again, eyes half lidded and breathing slowly.  
“I’ll take care of him when I am done with him. I’m not quite finished with him yet. Now…’ Lucifer looked down at Crowley. “Don’t give them a hard time. They are doing as they are told. I know you tend to be feisty. And you-‘ Lucifer warned the demons. “Do not abuse my pet. Only I can do that. Clean him, dress him and put him back in my room on his bed. Give him some water and entrails. He has done a good job.” The demons did not question the directions. They just took Crowley away as Lucifer stood in the empty space for a second and took a deep breath before he realized his cock is still exposed. He looked at it. He thought it was ridiculous at first. But he can inflict so much punishment and pleasure with it.   
His blue eyes flashed up at Sam, who shifted slightly, and he grinned.  
“Daddy’s coming back now.” Lucifer said as he started back toward the bed, ignoring the fact that Sam started to back away as if afraid.


	2. I am your King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demon Dean thinks he can one up the King of Hell. Well... Crowley shows him otherwise. Time to knock Dean Winchester down a couple pegs, love.

Ruling Hell is… hell. So much that even The King of Hell needs a break from the everyday grind of soul contracting with those at the tattered ass end of their pitiful ropes. Crowley grew board. Same old thing day in and day out. Same old rank and file. Not so very long ago there was a time when he enjoyed coming out of this hell hole, no pun intended, to fraternize with the humans. The abundance of delicious desperation on their faces as they seal a deal with a kiss. It is all so dull now.   
Hanging on the arm of Dean Winchester for the last few months had been fun. But Dean’s detachment from his hunter responsibilities and howling, with Crowley, at the moon has attracted too much attention from every monster front. Even the Angels have noticed and are getting irritated. The little bugger even had the audacity to shove Crowley down in front of his own demons when he approached him about his reckless behavior.   
Dean had done him a disservice by challenging him before his subjects. And Ever since then Crowley has left Dean to fend for himself. In retrospect that was probably not a good idea. Dean has already proved how unstable he can be as a human. He is a loose cannon as a demon and Crowley knew it was a mistake to cut him off. Not completely. Crowley knows exactly where Dean is at all times. He didn’t become King of the Crossroads and then the King of Hell because he doesn’t know his shit.   
Dean had been left to his own devices, and word has it, he was doing well on his own until a couple nights ago. His grand spree of iniquity is doing little to satiate his appetite now. He is hungering for something no one else can seem to give him, burning the midnight oil, so to speak, looking for that dragon he lost when Crowley left him. Word is… he hasn’t found it yet. Not that it doesn’t exist. Crowley smiles. Dean has just been looking in the wrong place.   
Crowley walked down a darkened hall of a bunker like the ones you see in old films of the Nazi war. Highly decorated with old trinkets of mankind they so ardently believe important or meaningful. However, the King of Hell is wiser than most humans. He knew that most, if not all items considered antiquities are nothing more than hunks of junk. Materialistic things with a meaning because they represented one moment in time.   
If that blade had not killed Abel, it would have been just an animal jaw that would have decayed to the dust it started off as. Of course, Cain gave it power by fashioning it into a blade. But he wasn’t even human when he did that. He was a demon, so it ends up being the same thing. If Cain was still human… all that jawbone would have ever been… is a jawbone with the blood of his murdered brother on it. Dean… is still Dean, black eyes or not. All that mark did was rouse what was already in him. Admittedly to most, that side if him is an acquired taste.  
Crowley’s shoes… a fine black leather Ferragamo, made a nice sound as he walked down the hall. It echoes thru the adjoining halls. He warned the others who catered to his whims to leave him alone. He needed time away from those simpering demons who fear and serve him to think of other things in silence instead of a constant stream of nagging questions about this or that.   
His fingers ran along the slightly cooled sweat covered stone walls of the hall. Contrary to what humans think, Hell is not a burning pit of screaming and moaning souls. Only if Crowley demands it. The souls in Hell are in a special place away from everything else. Who wants to sit on the throne and listen to them wailing all day long? It does nothing for his stress level. Humans roasting in a pit for all eternity. It is his favorite way to torture people in any case other than an endless line the damned cannot escape.   
Hell is damned cold sometimes. One hand in his trouser pocket as he watched his feet propel him forward aimlessly. Well, not aimless… he knows where he is going, just not caring where. Only he knew where every hall leads. Only he knew every nook and cranny of his kingdom. He was never lost here, though for all the souls of demons and damned humans… he felt freakishly and morbidly alone.   
A vague scent of cherry pie, bourbon and… is that a leather smell? Crowley stopped walking and he turned to look down the hall from where he had already been to where he was going. His thick brow lifted, and he bit the corner of his lip as if thinking. Ever since the moment his insides had been tarnished with human blood, not only has he had a demon on his back, but he has noticed things more frequently. Like certain scents that he doesn’t ever remember smelling before. The culmination of the scents invading his nostrils right now is very... familiar. The Impala.   
“…Thanks, Moose… I owe you a bouquet of oleander.” Crowley muttered to himself.   
Crowley turned back in the same trajectory and began walking again, running his finger gently along the wall as he did, his eyes downcast. The smell that washed over him is distinctly human. Now, normally Crowley would not dwell on these things. But things have changed. Despite his troubled past and the horrible things, he has done as a crossroads demon and as The King of Hell... he found himself pulling away from his usual daily tedium to gorge on simpler... trite things. Feeling things, he used to take for granted.   
Hungering, himself, for things that he has never had. The company of friends. Of people who treat him as an equal and would risk themselves for his wellbeing. No demon would do that. People like Team Free Will… Crowley shook his head and rolled his eyes. If it weren’t for Sam… he would not be having these feelings. He stuffed those feelings down.  
Turning a corner, Crowley thought just for a second about the Winchester brothers together. Sam and Dean are not such opposites. It’s like potatoes and steak on your plate. Both are food. Just not made of the same things. Probably not the best way to describe it. But the idea is the same. Dean is the meat and Sam is the vegetable. Oh hell, does this mean that Castiel is the desert? He tried not to think of the ignorant angel as a dollop of cream on top of a cake. This thought made the King of Hell smile. He knows he is supposed to hate them. They are his mortal and immortal enemies. Yet…  
He did harbor some feelings toward the three. Crowley stopped in his tracks and listened to the silence. He thought he heard something. Not with his ears, but perhaps in his heart. His hand went up to his chest. Well… it would have been there if he had a heart to speak of. But perhaps it was the bit of humanity forced into him.   
His coat flapped around his upper legs as he started to walk again, resuming his position with one finger tracing the wall. Yes, the decision to work with the Winchesters and their little angel friend was to keep them close so he would know what they were doing. Of everyone in this entire universe that scared Crowley, it was them. They alone seemed to be the only ones who could be a danger to him. Since, you know… Dean buggered off Cain.   
However, his little trysts with them has filled a void in him. He came to enjoy their threats of destruction, their constant demanding ways and their hilarious attempts at bending him to their will when they had no idea, he has those boys by the dangly bits whether they liked to admit it or not.   
“Crowley…” A voice said. Crowley stopped walking and looked ahead of him. He had no illusion who called him. If it is one of his domestics, they would address him accordingly. This brazen use of his name in his own walls surely meant that someone else was calling. And instantly he felt the urge to respond to the call. He cracked a smile. Waiting. Wanting to hear that voice call him again.  
“Crowley, I know you can hear me.” That voice, low yet soft. Even when he is angry, Crowley wants to laugh and pinch his cheek like he is a precocious child. Crowley did not just vanish when called, that was part of his mystique. Give the caller a reason to think he is being ignored and on the verge of giving up before the King appears. And for this particular person… well… making him wait is just a boon too good to pass up. So, Crowley stood there for a moment with his hands clasped in front of him waiting. He smiled as he rocked back and forth on his feet, pleased with the fact that he is being summoned.   
“Crowley, I am calling you! You come to me!” Crowley lifted his eyebrows again in mild shock as he laughed to himself.  
“…oh Squirrel, you must be desperate. You know I don’t come to you like a little bitch, darling.” Crowley muttered to the walls as if making an offhand comment that no one was supposed to hear.  
“Crowley…I need you.”  
“Oooh, getting there… you’re not quite desperate enough, though, I really want to hear it in your voice, pet.” Crowley answered the summons with a muttered word. He can feel the build of deprivation inside Dean’s call but it’s not to the point Crowley could not resist. Call it a bit of a denial fetish, if you like. Stop the sanity just before it breaks and then swoop in and… Crowley licked his teeth as he smiled.   
“Stop doing this to me, dammit.” Dean’s call came in a sharp whip. Crowley wished he could feel it like the blade of a knife against his throat. As it was, Dean being who he is, the harshness of what he thinks is a ‘demand’ feels more like a slap to the rear… which Crowley is not opposed too in the slightest.   
“Do better and I’ll come to you. And when I do, poppet… and you better believe I will… the rest of the night will be you licking my shoes.” Crowley answered the call with a whisper to the empty hall. Crowley chuckled as he continued to walk slowly as if ignoring the insistent call. Truth is, Dean is a strong demon, but he hasn't mastered the art of teleportation yet, or he would have just come to Crowley directly himself. Crowley also suggested that Dean keep a low profile in Hell as not too many of his subjects would be too happy to see the older Winchester prancing around their halls. 

“Crowley, I know you hear me, you son of a bitch…” Dean sounded petulant. Crowley froze again and looked mildly annoyed.  
“I do hear you, pumpkin… but you hurt Daddy’s pride a while back. You want me to come, you have to work for it! Commit!” Crowley shook his head and started walking again when he felt it. A stab of pain against his side. He looked down at his side at where, if he didn’t know better, it felt as if a knife had been buried. Of course, there is nothing there. Just a slight stabbing pain. Dean is really pushing to get the King of Hell to him if he is employing self-harm as a means to tell Crowley to, in effect, move his ass…   
Sometimes Crowley can sense the things Dean is feeling and vice versa. If they concentrate hard enough, that is. Something to do with the connection of demons, blah blah blah. The specifics of it didn’t really interest Crowley. They meant nothing to him but one thing. He is in Dean’s noggin and Dean is in his. He hoped the green eyed Rodentia is enjoying the view. Crowley chuckled lightly.  
“Look, you have some kind of control over me, you son of a bitch… I know you have a sick fetish about that fact… but you made me like this. So, you take care of it! I am giving you the chance to come to me willingly. If you don’t, I will force you hear with a summoning ritual. For your sake I hope you’re not doing something too important.”   
Again, bright optimistic shock came over Crowley’s face. He winked out.  
“Papa’s here.” Crowley said and Dean spun around to face the man. No, demon, who appeared in his room. Dean walked up to him in two wide strides. Crowley maintained his position though he would not have had to. He knew the moment his feet hit the floor that there was no devil trap. He was not being tricked here. And why would he be? Dean is in his pocket and is as likely to go near a demon trap as Crowley is to become the Queen of England. Less likely in fact, as Crowley thought of himself in a crown and the thought pleased him.   
“What took you so long?” Dean asked in a low tinder. His eyes roved over the black clothing and back up to Crowley’s face and that smug as hell smirk that he honestly hated and loved at the same time.   
“You’re on my schedule, Squirrel, remember? I will come to you when I bloody well feel like it.” Crowley said with a snarl that was not quite nasty… it had more of a reverberation of taunting levity. He watched anger pass Dean's face for a second, his eyes slicked black and his jaw working to maintain some semblance of calm lest the King leave without the promise of satisfaction of his needs.   
“I want you.” Dean whispered, lips moving in a way Crowley knew to be struggling. Dean probably pictured himself never saying those words to the likes of another man… let alone the King of Hell. It was like trying to shove a square block in a circle hole. It didn’t appear natural on his lips at all. Still the want is obvious. Crowley could not help who he really is. He grinned because he has this effect on most people at some point or another. They all hate the fact that they need him like a junkie chasing that illusive first high.   
“You’ll have to be more specific, love.” Crowley said softly as his hands, thick and strong, rested comfortably in the pockets of his overcoat. Dean stepped a little closer, so he was looking down in Crowley’s face in defiance.  
"You are the one who suggested I stay out of Hell even though that’s where I belong. With you. So, if I have to call you away then you need to come to me since I can't go to you. And I want you. So, I called you." Dean said and his pert lips smirked a little as he looked over Crowley's face with great avidity.   
"Are you telling daddy that you're hungry?" Crowley jeered playfully. Dean turned his head away. The sweet stench of excitement is wafting off him. The way a man can smell that sweet salty smell of a woman's need, the warm and wet hunger. "You don't bite the hand that feeds you, pet. Daddy will give you what you want. But you have to say you're sorry for getting pushy about it."  
Dean snapped his head back to look at Crowley.   
"What the hell are you talking about?"  
"Oh, come now. You sounded like an entitled fourteen-year-old girl. Daddy won't encourage and reward that behavior when he is not given due respect. Dean... you want daddy to give you your treat... you know what you must do. It is our agreement you remember.” Crowley felt his lips perk up a little. Dean stepped closer and Crowley looked between Dean's now green eyes to his lips and back.   
"Are we going to have a problem here, or are you going to give it to me?" Dean said in that infuriating self-assured and adorable way that Crowley could not help but love. Dean tries to be so tough. He is... but he acts more like a small natural disaster like an earthquake in a bottle. A bottle always on the verge of shattering at the slightest quake.   
"That depends on you, sweetheart. You have already shown me what you do to people you think are getting in your way or not giving you what you want. You are like a child having a tantrum. Daddy can punish you for that sort of thing. Or...' Crowley's hands came up and took the front of Dean's jacket and fluffed it as if he was prepping Dean for a camera interview. "Do you want me to praise that behavior?"  
"I am a demon, Crowley. I can hold my own against you." Dean snarked. Crowley actually laughed with his hand in front of his face.   
"Love, I have been a demon for almost three centuries. You think a few months is enough to pull up your bootstraps and take me on?' Crowley leaned in and pushed against Dean's chest with his own. '... I can show you things you could never imagine, Dean. Perhaps in time you can... but let Daddy show you just one of the things he can do."  
Dean was pushed back a little as Crowley pressed against him. He was being pushed backward toward a wide and heavy chair behind him and when his legs brushed against the seat, he plunked down on it with Crowley leaning over him. His hands resting on the arms of the chair and his rum scented breath wafting over Dean's face.   
"What sort of magic do you have in that neat little back of tricks, Crowley?" Dean asked again in the same sort of snark that seemed to perpetually be there since his demon side made its appearance. "Try not to bore me."   
Crowley laughed and then licked his teeth as he leaned forward and kissed Dean's mouth softly. He thought for a moment that Dean was going to pull away, but he didn't. In fact, after a second or two... very long second or two, Dean opened his mouth a little and tasted Crowley's lips in turn.   
A soft moan came from Dean as he slid down in the seat, wanting the sensation that Crowley was fully over him. He is still not sure when or how this happened. Yes, he knows how he became a demon. That’s not what he is confused about. His concern comes from how he suddenly did not care about his partners gender.   
Abruptly Crowley pulled back and looked down at Dean. Dean appeared a little frazzled and pouty like a kid being told he cannot have that new toy.   
"Why did you stop?" Dean asked. Yes, there is the sulky little boy voice. Dean grimaced with irritation. Crowley adjusted his jacked and looked down at Dean with a superiorly dignified grin.  
"Let's not be coy, darling. You aren't looking to get bored," said Crowley as he backed up a step and lifted a lazy hand up before him, aimed in Dean's direction. "You want me to knock those socks off. And here is the funny thing..."   
Crowley tucked his hands into his trouser pockets and continued to grin, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "... I am not going to build up gradually to that denouement. I'm gonna give you the coup de grace right here. Right now."   
Dean started panting, but he could not move. Yes, he is a bit scared and starting to feel he definitely overstepped his boundaries here and believed he should never have pushed against Crowley... even the little he had. Demon or not, experience with them or not, Dean is really no match when it came to being a demon, not against Crowley. But there is that grain of defiance that kept him from tilting over the edge and kowtowing.   
"You best hope you don't explode, or I will be cleaning your pretty little green eyes out of my hair. It’s not very flattering although it does give me a sort of erotophonophilia sensations."  
"Wait-" Dean lifted a hand, struggling to get out of the invisible hold of Crowley's powers. Here is an eye opener. You cannot take on a demon of three centuries being a little baby demon of a few months. It’s a fun fact Dean found out the hard way because he didn't want to listen to daddy.   
"Oops." Crowley rasped and flicked his hand upward. Several lines... three? Four? Dean couldn't count, they went too fast, but the black cloud smoke of demon souls came up in an arch over Crowley's head and dived down and into Dean's mouth all at once.   
Dean's head, as most vessels do, snapped back, his own demon soul trying to refuse the ones invading as his chest bowed outward and his legs kicked and his hands gripped the arms of the chair, struggling to regain himself.   
They are in him! He can feel them squirming around in there! Dean struggled to maintain composure as he looked up at Crowley, who had come a little closer so he can properly look down his nose at Dean.   
"There is magic you could never dream of in that little head of yours, Dean. Trust me...' Crowley came forward and rested his hands on the arm of the chair again and lowered his face so he and Dean were almost nose to nose. "I am King for a reason." Omitting that he is only King because Ramiel didn’t want the throne. But Dean didn’t need to know that right now.   
"What are they doing in me?" Asked Dean breathlessly as he felt them move down his chest to his belly. It felt as if he is a canvas bag and there are little animals running around in it, trapped.  
"Oh, they are making room in there for me. I could have done that myself, but I assumed you wanted to be defiled more. See? King of Hell doesn't mean completely sadistic megalomaniac." Crowley smiled as his eyes filled with red so that Dean watched the brown disappear. It looked as if Crowley's demon fog filled the inside of his vessel and steamed out, leaving crimson mist hanging between them.   
The vermilion cloud seeped from between Crowley's lips when the king darted his tongue out to wet his mouth. "Say 'aaah', Squirrel."   
Dean, who at the moment was too occupied with the three or four demons rolling around in his insides to really prepare for the attack, looked up in time to see the red mist from Crowley's mouth shoot forward and suddenly there felt like two fingers... one on his bottom lip and one on his upper lip, prizing them apart. His lips came away from each other before the red mist pushed against Dean's teeth, forcing the lower jaw to drop down.  
Dean didn't know a demon could do this... enter a vessel with such... careful procedure. Perhaps they couldn't and Crowley is the only one who could. The demons already inside him started scraping the inside of his lower belly, just above the pubic hairline. It was the same affect in sensation the way butterflies would feel like in your stomach. But if the butterflies were small winged flames instead of chitinous setae.   
Dean let out a small sigh as the red mist entered his mouth and ran slowly over his tongue. It felt almost like a finger sliding back and forth over the tongue as if it is trying to feel how rough or smooth it is. Spit built up in Dean's mouth and it rolled out of the corner of his lip as he looked up at Crowley, who is ever so pleased with the result of this choice.   
"You look a little shocked, Dean... why is that?” Crowley asked as he pressed forward in Dean's mouth, hitting the back of Dean's throat roughly and purposefully to make him gag. The sweet clench of Dean's esophagus around him is lovely. Indeed, Dean looked almost reproachful over this. "You are the one who said, 'try not to bore me'... or did I not hear you right?" Crowley asked off a soft giggle as he mocked Dean's bravado and deep voice.   
"I didn't know you could-" Dean tried to speak but the mist pushed down his tongue and swirled around inside his mouth as if it was looking for something. At the same time the invading lesser demons went into his loins. He could feel them leaving a hot trail over his balls and his shaft as they culminate near his taint.   
"Just a babe in the woods...' Crowley hissed as he pushed a knee between Dean's thighs, separating them slowly. "I told you... you will not be able to out-demon me, boy. I am King."   
Dean can feel the front of his jeans straining as his dick swelled and jumped in the confines of the material. His hips shifted from side to side offering him a slight relief of friction. The mist rolling around in his mouth slipped down his throat. It was not like water. It didn't choke him. He had a feeling though if Crowley wanted him to choke on it... he would be.   
The feeling of Crowley's demon mist taking over his body was like an invading parasite. All sorts of images were rocketing around in his head that could only be because Crowley was stirring his memories like a witch with her brew in a cauldron. Flitting images of everyone he has ever slept with, mostly women until a couple months ago. And... something unrecognized as something he actually did. It appeared more as a sensation to a thought rather than a clear image on the back of his eyes.   
His hands caressing Castiel's face. His thumbs running over the slightly chapped but beautiful thick lips. Castiel's eyes, ever wide with curiosity, growing wider and dewy with nervous anticipation of Dean's incoming kiss. Dean jerked his head to the side as a thunder of heat exploded in his chest at the sensation. The scalding need in his heart as his lips finally met with Castiel's. Dean knows for a fact that this never happened. And it scared him. Did Crowley see it? Dean's eyes, now watering from the unbelievably erogenous heat of the faux memory, shot up to look at Crowley.  
"Oh yes... I saw that. Somehow, I am not surprised. Your ‘straight as an arrow’ act always struck me as a little too fervent. It made it look as if you were in denial.” Crowley giggled again and pushed into Dean's mouth harder, ignoring the promiscuous romping with females he has had in the past to the stuff he had deep... hidden from even himself. At the same time, Crowley brought his knee even further between Dean's thighs, parting them gingerly and feeling of the gathering warmth of blood flow in the center.   
Dean's body jerked again, like he had been hit, as another image came to his mind. This did happen. He recognized it and his face flushed. Castiel came up to him and held on to him tightly. Of course, when he did, Dean was drawn down to where their hips were close and noted with surprise that Castiel had a slight erection and it touched him. Dean pulled back in the image and in real life, trying to get away from the embarrassment as Crowley made a soft sound of pleasure.  
"Is that a memory you hold dear because little Cas… touched you?" asked Crowley softly as his knee came up flush to Dean's crotch. His hand came off the arm of the chair and with precision, found the fly to Dean's jeans and slowly pulled it down, opening the front like a mouth gaping with the tightness of Dean's cock trying to get out.   
"Shut up!" Dean said in an angry and petulant tone. As he spoke, he noticed something curious. In the red mist that was coming out of Crowley's mouth and into his own, there were very fine, deeper strands of black. He can see them like wisps of black hair in water, swaying in the red. Crowley saw Dean look at it.   
"That is you... your demon soul." said Crowley in that deep smokers timber. For some reason it took Dean's breath away. It felt almost akin to a panic attack the way his heart fluttered, and his windpipe quivered. "What’s that line? Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?"   
Crowley made a sucking noise and Dean lurched forward; he could feel his soul being pulled out of him like parting an orange pip from its peel. A strange sound came from Dean's throat as the black smoke of his soul slid into Crowley's mouth in turn. He can feel the bristle of Crowley's mustache and beard around his lips, smell and taste the rum on his breath. It is like looking down a wormhole. He is firmly planted in a seat of a rollercoaster ride flying thru a plethora of memories. Somehow, he knew they were real memories and not just secret imaginings.   
He can see a variety of people, men and women, all were Crowley in various sexual deviance. It didn't matter how many people were present, Dean can pick out which one is Crowley and his dominance over the others is palpable. Seeing him, in all his glory, subjugating as other men and women lick up and down his body, paying special attention to the thick and throbbing hardness perched at the front of his pelvic cradle.   
Women in front of him brushing their breasts across his face. Men offering their cocks like dainties to the King of Hell. Crowley, indifferent of which, would pop a nipple in his mouth and suckle for a moment before he turned his head, breaking the fourth wall with his eyes as if he knew Dean was observing the memory and looking back at him, he would slide his tongue under the head of a particularly rugged and large penis before popping it in his mouth with exaggerated relish.   
"Oh fuck..." Dean groaned as something hot cupped over the bulge in his pants. It squeezed, rubbed and kneaded it gently causing his hips to drive upward a little.   
"Oh yes. Get deeper, Dean. Daddy isn't afraid to show you his experience. Come on, go deeper." Crowley whispered with his lips brushing Dean's lips. Again, his beard and mustache tickling Dean's face, scratching pleasurably. Dean wasn't even sure he knew how to 'go deeper' but he did it. He can now see the flow of hot blood as if he had Crowley's veins under a microscope. His body, in tandem with Crowley’s, throbbed with every pulse of their heart as if they are one unit.  
It was more like a mind meld than anything else and the further he went inside Crowley, the harder it became to let that thickening cock stay in his jeans. His hands moved down to his crotch to unbutton his jeans and reach in to grab his cock. He expected to feel hands their resisting removal but there wasn't anything there. His fingers undid his button and his other hand slid under the rim of his boxers to touch the hard flesh beneath.   
Another set of fingers came down, hooked at the rim of Dean's boxers and yanked them down and the embarrassing thing came popping out like the folded cardboard pictures in a pop-up book. Dean looked down to see Crowley's hand pushing down the front of his pants and seen his own cock wobbling back and forth every time his hips lifted against nothing but the idea of Crowley invading him.   
Dean opened his mouth to moan, there is so much stimulation at the moment it was overwhelming. He had always been a pretty straight forward guy. Fucking released tension and it felt good on a whole, in his cock and balls. But he never let it reach his heart or his head. But as soon as his lips came away from one another to let the sound pass, Crowley dived in with his tongue and pushed it into Dean's mouth.   
in a whirlwind delirium Dean found their tongues dancing and churning. Mixing their vapor, black and red twining like thin gossamer strings. He had a hard time focusing on one sensation or separating them from one another as Crowley started yanking Dean's jean's down his hips. Dean had never been 'taken' like this and part of him is admittedly scared. He wondered, as Crowley's tongue lay flat against his own, lapping it like an ice-cream, if Crowley's cock is as big as he depicted it.   
Dean hoped it was just a falsification on Crowley's part. But somehow, he is thinking that the demon deal he made to have double digits down there was not just Crowley blowing smoke up his ass. Dean made a sound that was distinctly feminine, and his face flushed as soon as the crooning noise trailed off. His thighs parted further, and he realized that he was not doing this on his own, but he could feel it, and he did it. It must be the demons inside him, overriding his body, making him react to his basal instinct.   
It feels good. Instinct says, make that feeling last longer and keep it going until it reaches its titular head and blows over… all over Crowley’s lovely tailored jacket and dress shirt. He can wipe his cock off with the silver purple tie after. Just this thought alone made Dean even more excited. His eyes slicked black as he squirmed under Crowley, his body moving like a cobra.   
Crowley's hands came down and around Dean's hips to sink his hands into the back of Dean's pants to massage and pull the back of them down at the same time. Rubbing the material further down as his breath filled Dean's lungs.   
“C’mon… c’mon…” Dean muttered against Crowley’s mouth in a harsh whisper of desperation. His legs came up and he hooked them around Crowley’s to pull him in. Crowley allowed it, but only because he too wanted to get closer. The scant images of reality in Dean’s head got boring. His imagination is far more delectable. He can taste the sinful lust all over Dean as he started dragging his mouth over Dean’s cheek and chin and down to his neck where be sucked hard, leaving red raised wheels of flesh.   
Crowley’s hips came down and the tented front of his trousers pressed to the throbbing cock under him. Dean made a funny noise that Crowley felt deep in his gut along with a little flick of hope and… yes, there he is. Dean is in him. He can feel the frantic squirming of Dean’s consciousness trying to keep pace with his progression. Like trying to steer a car in inclement weather. Plunging headlong into a storm of such severity that you cannot see and can only trust your inner compass to navigate.   
“You’re rather impatient, you know…” Crowley grunted as he allowed Dean, in his hunger, to sate the curse growing inside him, the feeling of the Demons inside him keeping him from backing away, keeping him tractable. Keeping him from snapping back into the lie Dean felt he must believe about himself. Dean thrust up, pushing with his own hardened manhood against Crowley, who in turn pushed downward was if he was digging for something. Oh yes, Crowley is every bit as large as he showed in that image. Its no falsification.   
“I want to feel it.” Dean said as he was able to break his arms free of the hold the demons had over him and wrap them around Crowley’s ribs to hold the older man in place. It was at this point Crowley felt that the little demons were not necessary. He leaned forward and sealed his mouth over Dean’s. He kissed Dean so deeply at this point that Dean felt everything go white. It was like Crowley was sucking the sense out of him. Dean would have thought he left his body if he couldn’t feel the hardness of Crowley’s cock sliding stiffly over his own with meticulous care. Dean felt his toes curl in his boots, his eyes rolled back as one of his hands came up to cup the back of Crowley’s head at the same time Crowley cupped Dean’s face, falling further into the kiss.   
A ritual mating seemed to be taking place as teeth, lips, tongue and breath slipped and nipped and caressed together and Dean felt slightly hurt and more amazed. The slight pain was due to the fact that he never expected to be kissed like this. Not just by anyone. He has never been kissed like this… but he wished it wasn’t Crowley that kissed him like this. He wanted someone else’s lips like this. Crowley offered a much different set of emotions and desires.   
Dean drew in air thru his nose as he continued to kiss Crowley. His olfactory senses filled with the smell of rum… the hot smell of cinnamon. And the taste of smoke that Dean could not decide if it was cigarettes… or the taste of Crowley’s demon essence. It is a perfect amalgamation of the King of Hell and Dean is drowning in it.   
But the scent and flavor started to slowly change. Hints of chocolate. The smell of wet suede that has been walking thru fields of cedar in the rain. A rich… amber like smell made Dean’s eyes water, even though they were closed. The feeling didn’t reflect Crowley at all. In fact, in some part of his submerged mind, he knew it wasn’t Crowley. The touch of lips to his own was not as hard and fiery. He opened his eyes just as Crowley broke the kiss slowly… almost… hesitantly. 

“…Cass…” Dean whimpered up at the Angel over him. The soft and kind countenance that looked down on Dean smiled almost sadly. A small gentle hand reached up and caressed Dean’s cheek. The feeling of Castiel’s touch so much different that Crowley’s. Crowley, when he touches you, is intense. Like a vicious thunderstorm. Castiel’s touch is akin to a gentle rain on a summer evening that fills your senses with wet sunbaked asphalt as you drive with the mist of recently fallen precipitation still clinging to the air causing a slight humid coolness. Dean knew the feeling and scent well… its one of his favorite smells. His green eyes swam with so many hidden things, things he held down under a lock and key.   
“Dean. You know this isn’t real.” Castiel said as he continued to caress Dean’s face. Dean knew it. Or… he suspected. But he also knew he didn’t have the balls to really do this with the real Castiel. So, if he took some liberties with Crowley posing as Cass for a few minutes, what Cass didn’t know would not hurt him. In some deep chasm holding what remained of Dean’s human control screamed out not to do it, but Dean’s forward self, wrapped his arms around Castiel’s ribs in almost a bearhug and pulled the angel to the side so they were both on the chair. Castiel’s legs lay over Dean’s lap.   
"I don't care right now." Ignoring Castiel’s statement, Dean ran his palm up and down Castiel’s thighs slowly, methodically, as if he were attempting to map out all his muscles from memory. Dean switched from thigh to thigh, making sure to touch every part of the legs before his fingers dipped between Castiel’s knees. Dammit, he knew it wasn’t really Cass, but his curiosity is so great, his desire so strong, he had to know what he felt like… he just had to.  
“…Dean…” Castiel whispered against Dean’s cheek. Feeling the soft breath of Castiel against his face and the heat in his groin as he brought his hand up between Cass’s legs, Dean lifted his gaze to peer into those lovely blue orbs. As their eyes locked, Dean’s palm ran across Castiel’s groin, eliciting a soft sigh of confused interest as Castiel’s eyes shifted from Dean’s to where his hand was, watching as Dean caressed and rolled the flesh around under the fine linen of his trousers, making a wonderful tingling burn flush up his skin there.   
Dean hovered before Cass’s face for a moment, looking at his eyes, his nose, his lips, the shape his cheekbones and jaw made to the angle of his chin, drinking in every detail from this close and Dean felt that deep-seated humanity left in him cry out for Castiel. Dean wanted to pull away… he is ashamed of the monster inside of him when in the presence of Castiel. Yet his desire is too profound. He pressed forward and kissed Castiel again, this time taking his time, completely forgetting that he wasn’t really kissing the angel. But his heart still fluttered. He felt, smelt and sounded like Castiel.  
Dean could push aside the obvious until the game was called. He shifted and pulled Castiel’s leg up so that Dean could slip his hips between them. Laying chest to chest, Dean slid his hands up Castiel’s hips, over his ribs under the trench coat and up over his chest to cup at Castiel’s face, both hands gripping around the angel’s neck and jaw as he made love to those soft and slightly chapped lips.   
Their bodies clung together like heat and sweat, the longer they kissed, the heavier the air around them. Dean had one knee on the floor and one still on the chair as he thrust his hips against Castiel’s. Hardening groins filling with desire. Dean couldn’t even contain himself, he just wanted to feel that rush, that pure resolve he raced for.  
Dean gasped as he realized he wasn’t going to last too long. If he kept going at this pace, he would be shooting all over the angel in convulsive waves. Dean pushed his hand between himself and Castiel and grabbed Castiel’s fly. He yanked it down all the way, all while never breaking his lips away from Castiel’s completely. Letting the angel make his exasperated sounds of pleasure, muffled by his humans’ mouth.   
Castiel's fingers dug deep into Dean's shoulders, clutching with a maddening urgency. His breath hitching and his thighs quivering, and Dean can feel every twitch against his heaving hips. It drove him to the barricades of his desire, being called beyond the edge of the world to topple over the side by the siren song of Castiel’s rugged voice in the throes of passion.   
Dean cried against Castiel’s mouth, not caring if he is overheard… forgetting what was really happening. His head so full of just… Castiel… his Cass… his love. Dean’s insides burned with a jealous insistence that even in the throes of their passion, there was still enough time for someone to come in and take Castiel away from him. Dean guarded the angel with a covetous determination, not letting the angel turn his head away, look away from him, keeping him bound by the connection of their eyes and the sliding friction of Dean’s cock rubbing against Castiel’s thru the zipper opening.   
“Cass…come with me…” Dean muttered softly. Cass’s eyes closed and his head tipped back. His lips trembling as he whispered.  
“Dean… I love you…” His lips fluttered against Dean’s cheek.  
As Castiel spoke, a boundless culmination of hot desire shot out of Dean and into the opening of Castiel’s slacks. Dean groaned into it, pushing his hips hard against the angel, holding them pressed together until the throb and burning tingle started to fade. It wasn’t until his mind started to come out of the tailspin that he realized Castiel … his Castiel had arched his back off the chair and let out a long loud cry of release in Dean’s name, as if he was shocked by the intensity of what Dean had done to him.   
His eyes… for some reason they’re red… not the shimmering blue white that Dean has seen before from the angel. As he looked in Castiel’s eyes, he noticed them change. The shape, the feel of them. It was no longer the tender wide eyes, terrified and overwhelmed with pleasure and love… but… harder… much less innocent of impure thoughts. A vague red mist blossomed between them, like a mist connecting their mouths. Castiel actually smiled. His face transforming from Castiel to… Dean didn’t recognize that look. Castiel grabbed Dean’s jacket and pushed, a powerful shove that knocked Dean back onto the floor at the foot of the chair.   
Dean, on his back, looked up at Castiel. Dean’s cock was still out of the zipper of his jeans, slightly wet with his and Castiel’s cum. The angels eyes swimming red as he stood, the opening to his fly slightly sparkling with the aftermath of their combined orgasm, he stood up, walked over Dean and then sat down on him, his backside pressing into the hardness that refused to go away between Dean’s legs. Dean moaned as Castiel leaned forward and started caressing his face.   
“Oh Squirrel… I can’t believe you’re acting so surprised.” Its Castiel’s voice… but he is not talking like himself. Dean was slightly confused for a second before Castiel smiled again and he licked the corner of his mouth. “I told you, Dean… I can do things to you that you could never imagine.”   
And then Castiel was Crowley.   
“…no…” Dean, although he knew it was not really Castiel… had forgotten for a while… he forgot it was really Crowley in the instant of his passion. Dean’s face nearly pouted but before his expression could fully change to disappointment, Crowley leaned over and licked Dean’s mouth.  
“Your love for the angel is delicious, by the way… now…’ Crowley said as he sat back on Dean’s hips and pulled off his jacket. “… time for you to try the big boy ride…”   
“I can’t believe you,’ Dean started but Crowley smiled as he shifted so that he was half between Deans legs, some version of the lateral coitus. Crowley leaned over Dean’s face and smirked.  
“What? Tricked you into thinking you were shagging your little cherub? You knew from the beginning I wasn’t him. Its not my fault you let your imagination run away with you. Besides…’ Crowley bit Dean’s bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. It made Dean angry and his eyes slicked black.   
“… I’m a demon… blah blah blah.” Crowley giggled and Dean started to mutter when a hand was forced over his mouth. “Be a good boy and put your hands over your head.” Dean muttered under Crowley’s hand, but Crowley merely shook his head.  
“No, no speaking. Do as you are told. Don’t make me force you, Dean.” Slowly, Dean lifted his arms, so they rested above his head on the floor and when his knuckles touched the rough well-worn carpet, cuffs appeared. Pinning his hands to the floor. Dean tried to pull out of them but suddenly he could not move. He looked at the cuffs and noticed the symbols on them. Demon warding. He glared back at Crowley.  
“You and Moose taught me that neat little trick.’ Crowley said as he pulled the tie loose around his neck and unbuttoned his first few buttons of his dress shirt. “Now, my pet… you are totally under daddy’s sway. No pulling out… no… calling for help – not that you would, I find you rather like being tortured like this.”  
“Jesus will you shut up! I never heard someone love the sound of their own voice so much!” Dean spat. But far from angering Crowley, the King laughed. He reached down and flicked at Dean’s hard cock between them to watch it twitch and throb along with the sound of Dean’s gasp of indignant liking.   
“You got to admit… my voice is the sex… and you… are my little sock puppet, aren’t you?”   
“Just do what you’re gonna do, Crowley! Get it over with!” Dean was having a hard time keeping the bitter note from his tone, making him even more bitter because he knew Crowley could feel it… and know what it was about.  
“Oh, are you sure that is what you want? This isn’t acting out because your salty about you nutting over your cherub?”   
“You had no right-” Dean started, the sneer firmly on his lips. The one he used when he was angry and done with someone’s shit. Crowley pressed his hands against Dean’s chest and expanded his lungs, slowly putting his head back with a laugh that mocked the man under him.   
“I have the only right, Dean. Now… you will endure this because you still want to show how big your balls are. First, I can assure you. My balls are bigger. And second, you are the bottom in this little yaoi scene. And obviously the embarrassment of knowing that you were tricked into showing just a taste of what you really feel about the Seraphim is making you defensive. So…’ Crowley looked back down at him. If Dean had ever seen a cartoon characterization of a demon, or the Devil himself, it looked to come to life on Crowley’s face as he smiled toothily down at him. “Down with your defenses.”   
Dean felt himself go boneless. Not literally but he could not move. At all. His muscles useless. Even worse, his demon strength and power, nil. He lay there under Crowley like a flesh doll. The only thing he found he could move was his mouth.   
“I hate you!” Dean muttered.   
“I bet you say that to all the girls.” Crowley slid down a little and loosened his tie, so it hung in two sections on either side of his neck. “… and I would tie your tongue, love… but I sort of want to hear you squeal like a little piggy. So, that only leaves one thing left.”  
Crowley snapped his fingers and Dean felt the coolness of the room around his already sweaty and heated legs. His bottoms were gone. He couldn’t even move his hands or legs to cover himself. His boneless state left him slug like on the floor, left to the not so tender ministrations of the King of Hell.   
“Properly disrobed. Tractable. Salty. Indubitably horny.’ Crowley opened his own trousers, and the thing he had been hiding inside it was pulled out and Dean’s eyes, strained down to look at it. He felt a quivering in his belly. Terror and excitement all at the same time.   
“I think you are ready, Dean. You think you’re ready to take the ride of your life?” Crowley asked as he lifted one of Dean’s limp legs and pushed it to the side, tucking himself into the center of Dean’s crotch, ignoring the cock that pulsed and dripped and poked into his stomach, Crowley wasted no time waiting for Dean to answer and pressed the head of his phallus against Dean.   
Dean could do little to hide the shake of his lips but bite them as he whimpered against his conscious will. Crowley, with as much flare and relish as he could give, ran the tip of his nose along the side of Dean’s nose and his hands came up and traveled along the triceps and over the elbows, tickling the skin until his hands, rough and hot, slipped into Dean’s, their fingers entwining.   
Crowley chuckled as he looked cheekily into Dean’s eyes and then his mouth opened, and a full flood of the red mist came out of his mouth and into Dean. Dean’s body arched off the floor, his back going stiff as he felt Crowley enter him like a Tasmanian devil. A violent whirlwind of raw power and evil that rushed to fill every fiber and nerve in his body. 

Dean’s body shuddered and jerked. The red mist was still anchored to Crowley by a fine strand as if unwilling to go completely into Dean. It made sense as Crowley would lose control of his vessel if he left it. Yet the little bit still tethered in Crowley was enough to keep him aware of both himself and Dean. Crowley watched with fascination as Dean’s eyes rolled and his voice seemed locked so that he was unable to make a sound.   
He ripped thru every muscle and tendon and bone. Setting them on fire. A line of drool rolled out of the corner of Dean’s mouth as he stuttered and breathed heavily. Dean’s hands clenched hard on Crowley’s. It was probably the only way he could communicate at the moment. He looked so… swept away. Crowley is sure, in this moment, that Dean has never felt anything like this in his life. The best sex he has ever had cannot compare to this. Judging by the speechlessness. The toe curling. The finger clenching. Crowley is sure that if he had not disabled Dean’s motor skills, Dean would be thrashing. Crowley let out a low and lecherous moan.   
“… tell me you want it, Dean… beg me to fill you more.” Crowley, becoming turned out beyond his initial need to subjugate Dean, whispered in a desperate manner. He was answered by Dean shifting his eyes, coming under control of them briefly, to look at Crowley with a silent demand. Dean’s eyes bore into him. Crowley didn’t really need Dean to speak at that moment. He could tell Dean was saying it inside by the way his narrow hips tilted up to receive.   
Crowley gripped Dean’s hands tighter, any tighter he could have broken Dean’s hands, and pushed into Dean halfway. Dean’s mouth opened wide in a silent scream, his eyes scrunching closed. A throat tearing sound emanated from Dean as if he was dreaming and trying to scream, but no sound would come out. But as he woke, the strangled sound burst forth with torture and fear. But there was no fear here. Before Dean could even finish the shriek of his entrance, Crowley had pushed all the way in, opening him completely.   
Dean’s voice still ringing in the room. Crowley adjusted his position so that he was able to pound into Dean mercilessly. That cry of pain and pleasure turned Crowley on so hard that he was not gentle. He huffed and snorted like a raging bull as he wrapped one of his hands around Dean’s neck and the other hand held Dean’s knee. Every time Crowley huffed out a sharp breath with every thrust that drove the air out of Dean, the red cloud between them shivered and fluttered.  
“… touch yourself, piggy…” Crowley demanded. Dean, horrified but so utterly turned on, was able to move one hand, despite them having been tethered, down to his throbbing cock, wrap his hand around it and start pumping at it with pleasurably catastrophic results. Dean’s lips raw from biting them to hold back any further sounds of pleasure, found it increasingly difficult when Crowley was angling and aiming in different areas to find the sweet spot. But then Dean realized that it wasn’t so much that he needed to find it. Crowley already knew exactly where to hit him. The red demon mist found it first, it was literally pressing it… his prostate.   
“Oh Dean, what naughty little things do you want me to do next, hmm? Play some more or do you want Daddy to finish this?” Crowley whispered, toying. Pretending to be on a fruitless effort to find Dean’s p-spot drove Crowley purely crazy. His hips smacked against Dean with loud sounds and after a while, his mind detached from any reason as he slammed in and hit Dean directly on his prostate that was already taught and ready to sing.   
“Yes! That’s what I like!’ Dean blurted out deliriously. “That’s it! Right there! Fuck me harder!”  
Crowley chuckled.  
“You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into… you’re going to be my sex slave and I will wear you out!”  
“Shut up! Keep going!” Whimpered between the uncontrolled humphs he was forced to make with every jarring thrust against and in him.   
Crowley lifted his upper body at the same time Dean realized he could now move completely and wasted no time. His hand that was not occupied with his cock grabbed the front of Crowley’s dress shirt and ripped it open, the buttons pulling away with soft pops, exposing Crowley’s hairy and heaving chest. Dean looked perplexed but pleased because he didn’t realize Crowley has tattoos on his chest. Dean sat up slightly and buried his face in Crowley’s chest, biting and sucking his nipples and taking great pleasure in gnawing at the tattoo just coming out from under the left side of his shirt.   
Crowley closed his eyes as he continued to ravage Dean’s insides. Dean abandoned his own cock and dug his hands up under the material of Crowley’s shirt and gripped his back hard enough to leave marks in his wake as he continuously chewed and lapped at Crowley’s upper chest and neck. Crowley nearly purred as he felt Dean’s hips meeting him halfway, the hardness in Dean becoming indelible, harder to wonder if it is there, it seems to split Crowley’s considerable slit on the tip of his cock. Just this in itself made Crowley growl and he gripped Dean with one hand to his back and pushed in short thrusts as fast as he could, his body and Dean’s pulsing as one. Crowley can feel everything Dean can… damn he fucks so good.   
Dean shook more violently as he was able to rip his mouth away from Crowley’s upper chest and neck and look at him, his eyes looked as if they were staring into an endless pit and he feared it, they were large, green and watery as his mouth worked to make a sound. Crowley could tell… Dean is about to let out his seed.   
“Huuuh… G’uuuh… hgnnn…” Dean tried to say something, but his trembling rendered him unable. Crowley lowered his ear to Dean’s mouth as if he was trying to make out what Dean was trying to say.   
“…what was that?’ Crowley whispered in a rush. “ You want me to make you cum?” Dean’s head fell back so it was practically dangling between his shoulders as he let out a long loud cry.  
“…y…you…son of a…Aaaah…”Dean arched hard against Crowley as he came again, his seed peppering the hairs on Crowley’s belly. He mewled and thrashed as he moved his hips to rub Crowley’s swollen cock head against his prostate more, his own cock massaging the thick semen onto Crowley’s abdomen.   
Crowley rumbled as he brought his mouth down to bite at Dean’s neck, at the same time shooting deep into Dean. The amount he released is indecent, it came out of Dean despite how full and stretched he is. Crowley made sure he rode Dean as hard as he could, just to relish the chirping sounds that weren’t quite as manly as Dean would pretend.   
“That’s it, my little whore… take me all in… eat it all up, you little slut.” Crowley snarled against Dean’s neck. Dean fell back and was being pushed across the floor with every thrust, boneless because of exhaustion rather than Crowley making him so. Even though… Crowley did put him in this state regardless.   
Dean’s lips were parted slightly as he heaved and looked up at Crowley, who was finishing off by slowly undulating his hips as if wishing to saturate every inch of the inside of his little demon slut. Eventually he stopped and he lay himself forward, panting on Dean’s face.  
“This means nothing… you’re still a son of a bitch.” Dean said. Crowley licked his teeth as he looked down at Dean. The red mist slowly retracting from Dean as if he was sucking his breath out.  
“Yes… perhaps. But I am the son of a bitch with his cock balls deep inside your pretty little ass. Until you get to peg me, my darling… you are my slut. And lets face it, you are not going to be owning me for a very long time, love. Now be a good boy and lick me clean. Daddy is too tired.”   
Dean had the nerve to pull a disgusted face as Crowley pulled out and sit in the chair with his cock poking out of his trousers. Like he thought Crowley wouldn’t dare force him to do it. Yet, Dean is sure that when he rolled over on his hands and knees, that he brought his head between Crowley’s knees and started loving lapping at the swollen meat willingly.  
He’d deny it, with every fiber of his being.   
Yet… he enjoyed every second of it.


	3. Brothers in arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well... that didn't go as expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not by any means a Wincest girl. But... I was challenged to write it and I know some of you are. so... here you go if you like this sort of thing.

Sitting at the table, deep in research of a recent case, laptop open and books scattered about, Sam pulled his long fingers away from ceaseless tapping on the keys to rub at his tired eyes. Castiel and Jack are tracking the targets movements. Dean, well… Dean is in his room. Still… Mom hasn’t been able to wheedle him out of there even with pie.   
Dean seems to have been so frustrated lately. Sam sighed a little bit. Dean almost always seems frustrated. He won’t really look at anyone and even when he talks to others, is perfunctory and indirect. Castiel seems to think it has to do with him. Jack fears it has something to do with him. Mom is worried but maintains that Dean is a big boy and can take care of himself.  
Yet…  
Every time Dean looks at Sam, there seemed to be something trying to fight out of him. Sam can not imagine what it is. They have a bad habit of not telling each other the entire truth and it gets them in trouble all the time. Hardest part of this is that they learned this from their parents and… by all accounts, this is being passed on to Castiel and Jack.   
Sam leaned back in the chair and looked around. He sighed again and reached forward to close the laptop with a snap and stood. He stretched and enjoyed the pull of every muscle down his back and abdomen. He groaned as he picked up the empty beer bottle and the empty coffee cup, both long since drained, and carried them to the kitchen, his mind wandering back to Dean.   
Every time Dean achieves this level of surliness, he acts irrational and keeps to himself for a week. Sam has even suggested he… go out and look for some fun if he is so taxed. Dean didn’t receive this well. He gave Sam the sort of look that scorches.   
“Been there. Done that to hell and back, Sammy. Every pussy out there is pretty mopped out and not by me. Right now, it’s not that appealing to me.” He muttered in that caustic way he has when he is feeling particularly petulant. He would walk away all broody with a beer or two in his hands and avoid looking at everyone else again, even though Sam notices Castiel trying hard to engage him. Jack just stays away. Mostly likely because he was told long ago to keep his distance for his own good when Dean is like this. It’s a good thing Jack pays attention a little better than Castiel does.   
Sam rinsed the cup and put the bottle in the recyclables as he walked out of the kitchen and tapped off the light. He may as well get his cursory four hours of sleep in if he hopes to be ready in case Castiel or Jack call them for help. He yawned a little and rubbed at his face as he schlepped across the floor, down the hall to his room. He may as well check in on Dean on his way by. He can’t just ignore him. He is his brother. He will risk getting a boot or something thrown at him.  
Sam stopped before Dean’s door and knocked gently.  
“Dean?” He called quietly. Nothing. No sound at all. He knocked again.  
“Dean, its Sam. Are you okay?” He asked again. He heard a soft moan. He wasn’t sure if it was Dean responding from half sleep or not. He knocked again, a little harder.  
“Dean, can I come in for a minute?” Sam asked. But even before his question came out fully, there was another soft moan. Sam looked from the floor to the door in curiosity. He tried the handle. It was unlocked. If Dean was… having some alone time with a magazine he would lock the door. Sam learned this a long time ago. Sam cracked to door open a little and the room is pitch black.  
“Dean…” He whispered to not startle his older brother. Another soft moan and something whispery. Like a easy breath. Sam could not see into the room. The hall light was off, and the little light remaining did little to illuminate the dark space. Sam stepped in and closed the door gently. He ignored the light switch, just in case Dean is sleeping… god forbid, in the nude. He felt his way over to Dean’s bed with his hands out in front of him like a blind person.   
Technically he is blind. He can’t see anything in front of him. His hands touched the foot of Dean’s bed and he can hear another noise now. A wet sound. A sliding wet sound. Dean’s door wasn’t locked. Dean never does… that… without locking the door. Sam is relatively sure Dean is not masturbating. Soother wild imaginings went through his head like the worm things that burrow into your ear. He moved a little faster up the bed, feeling his way up along the mattress.   
Sam paused because he heard Dean draw in a slight breath, clear his throat softly and exhale with a moan that came out of his nose. Sam stood there hunched over with his fingers on the bed, holding perfectly still. He is almost sure now that Dean is touching himself, but he didn’t lock the door which is odd. That or he is having one hell of a wet dream. Just the thing to perk him up, Sam thought. But to be on the safe side. Sam moved up a little further until his legs hit Dean’s boots that were on the floor.   
“Dean… hey…” Sam whispered lightly. He picked up his hand and reached forward. He couldn’t see Dean really, so he felt out in front of him to see where he was. And drew back his hand immediately when he touched something wet and hard. There was a sound of shock and a creak of springs and a click of a light before Sam could even straighten out.   
Dean is laying on his back with his pants pulled half down his hips, his t-shirt and flannel was discarded on the floor. The reason Dean had not heard him is because he was listening to his headphones. Sam’s eyes flicked very quickly across Dean’s face, to the shine of sweat on his neck and then to his chest and… his very sweaty flat belly before his eyes snapped back to Dean’s face.  
“Oh sh- I’m sorry!” Sam said in a stammer as he stood up and started to back away. Why did he have to notice his brother had been breathing heavy? His bottom lip is a little red too which meant he was trying to keep quiet by biting his lip.   
“What the- why didn’t you knock?!” Dean looked pissed off as he tried to cover himself and reach over to shut off the light. There was no returning himself to his pants, his hard on was too apparent.   
“I did knock, Dean – you’re wearing headphones! Why didn’t you lock the door, dude?” Sam said as he turned with his hands over his eyes.   
“I thought I did!” Dean said in a low grumble as he lay back down, expecting to hear Sam making his hasty retreat. He threw his arm over his face, so the crook of his elbow rested over his nose and he exhaled.  
“Fuck… why…” Dean said begrudgingly. Sam lowered his arms and looked toward the door. He can just see the faintest light coming out from under it. He looked back out of the corner of his eye.   
“I’m… I’m sorry.” Sam said as he stood there awkwardly.  
“Are you going to stand there while I finish or are you going to leave?” Dean started to sound like the surly brat he sounded like earlier and Sam just thought it better to leave him to rub one out. Fall asleep and perhaps be in a slightly better mood tomorrow.   
“Oh-Sorry…’ Sam started to walk away when he paused. “… Hey Dean?”   
“…what…” Dean responded sullenly.   
“…um… what’s been up with you, lately?” Sam asked. Dean tutted.  
“Really? You wanna ask that now? When I am about to bust a nut?” Dean asked contemptuously.   
Sam sighed and looked back tentatively. But he still couldn’t see well enough to make out detail.  
“Since you’re actually speaking and not grumbling, yes… the sooner you answer… the… quicker I leave so you can finish rubbing one out!” Sam asked in that nervous way he has when he knows he is doing something that will piss his older brother off. Dean looked back at his brother even though he could not see him that great.  
“You’re freakin kidding me, right?” Dean asked.   
“N… no I’m not.” Sam swallowed hard, thankful that Dean cannot see how nervous he is. Sam’s eyes flicked in the dark to where his inner compass last detected Dean on the bed and instinctively roamed in the area where Dean’s pants were down and his cock stand throbbing between the teeth of his zipper.   
Of course, Sam could not see Dean’s reaction to that at all but Dean still sneered and flopped back down on the bed. “Fine… I’ll just… do it with you standing there. That should make you get the hell out.”   
“It won’t. Talk to me, Dean.” Sam insisted although he heard with a twinge in his lower belly, the sound of lotion being applied to a palm.   
“It’s in my hand, Sam.” Dean warned as his palm, slicked with lotion, warm and tight, slipped over his erection, and brought his hand all the way down to the base and back up. Something about it, and he would never admit this out loud, having his brother standing there and not being able to see, but knowing what he is doing, is sort of exciting Dean.   
Sam stammered for a second again before he could wrap his lips around the words, he wanted to say rather than asking if he can watch him. “Go on, do it but I am not leaving until you talk to me. I am not the one who will be embarrassed.” That was a bullshit lie and Dean knows it.  
“It feels good, Sam…’ Dean sighed a little in warning. Indeed, it did. He was listening to a podcast of some… naughty things. He got horny but for some reason his cock throbbed more powerfully as he spoke it out, knowing Sam is watching, or trying to. His face flushed in the dark at the sound he made. It just passed his lips without warning and he bit his bottom lip hard. Sam’s reaction to that sound seemed to… displace the air in the room. Dean heard his brother gasp very softly, barely audible if the vents were going. But right now, they were on a timer and it was in standby. The only other Thing Dean could hear was the sound of his own hand slipping up and down his cock slowly and his hips bumping up to his hand.   
“Keep going. But you will eventually not want to continue because I am standing here. And I am not leaving until you talk to me, Dean.” Sam contended. That sound that came out of Dean, it was assuredly an inadvertent thing. Still, Sam could not wrap his mind around how Dean would just jack off in front of him like this. Worse, his eyes were adjusting to the low light and he was starting to see vague shapes. Of Dean’s skin against his blankets. Sam can just make out the subtle displacement of color that told him Dean was really pleasuring himself.   
Not only that… he can smell it. The soft yet pungent scent of precum was in the air. His hand swept in front of him, brushing against the front of his jeans before he realized what he was doing and forced his hand back to his side. He is getting hard. He tentatively started to touch his crotch again, thinking in some mottled way that Dean wasn’t looking his way. That is exactly what Dean would do. He knows his brother well enough. He’s done this before.  
Dean’s eyes, that too have adjusted well enough to the dark can now see the merest outline of Sam standing near the foot of the bed. He was moving but Dean couldn’t really see what Sam was doing. He scrunched his eyes and tried to focus, as he brought his hand up and down a few more times, enjoying rubbing delicately under the head. He moaned softly again. He doesn’t think Sam can see him. As a matter of fact, it may be the beer that is making Dean see something moving. Sam is standing there, probably with his back to him. So he didn’t feel too creepy about spreading his legs slightly to dip his fingers down further over his balls and touch his taint before coming back up to caress his cock with an eyeroll of ecstasy.   
“I’m touching my taint and my tight little nuts, Sam…” Dean said as his hand came down again to cup his balls and finger his taint. Sam can see it… his eyes were boggling. He almost forgot how to breathe as Dean fully displayed himself without really knowing he was. And if he knew he was, then he didn’t care. Sammy started to wonder now if Dean isn’t possessed even though demons should not be able to get in him because of the warding. Unless its an angel…   
“Okay… are you going to give me a blow by blow of what you’re doing or are you gonna at least tell me what has been eating your ass, lately. Is it Cass or Jack?” Sam waived his arms. “Mom?”  
Dean groaned a little.  
“Don’t talk about MOM, right now, Sam! You’ll kill my hard on.”  
“I’m shocked that me standing in the room isn’t killing your hard on!” Sam said exasperatedly. Hearing Sam… talking about his hard on… Dean chewed his lip as both hands were now at his cock. One squeezing and tugging the shaft, the other pulling and rolling his balls.   
“… oh yeah… touch my hard on…” Dean had his eyes closed and head resting to the side as he muttered. Getting into what he was doing. He wasn’t particularly talking to Sam; he was just getting really excited. And declaring how good he feels is better than talking about his ‘emotions’ again. Sam knows he doesn’t like too.  
Again, Sam is staggered because he thought Dean had said it to him. He hardly knew how to react. His mouth opened and closed trying to find a way to respond, as his cock gave a twitch under his jeans as he touched it.   
“… what did you say?” Sam whispered almost like he was afraid to ask. But Dean was lost in what he was doing. Sam can just see him squirming on the bed, his hands working like a machine to bring his brother to cum. He can hear the bed shifting, Dean’s knuckles and ring raking against his jeans. An endless torrent of dirty words and phrases Sam has never heard Dean say came out of his mouth.   
“Oh yeah… I’m so horny baby.” Dean muttered to the ceiling as he ran his thumb over the slit, wetting his head. He licked his lips after he brought his soaked thumb briefly to his mouth to taste himself. Sam’s jaw fell open at this. His dick is pressed against the inside of his jeans and he cupped it. If Dean is doing this to chase Sam off, he has gone far beyond any other time. But Sam is also getting tired of Dean’s shit. Holding in his feelings and keeping it to himself instead of seeking support from his brother.   
Sam’s eyes glimmered in the dark. For once he would like to get the one up on Dean. Make Dean step back and think before he messes with his little brother. Sam stepped forward and stood next to Dean. Dean was too distracted by the sensation of what he was doing… likely thought Sam may have even left, but Sam was not sure of that. He reached over and very slowly, very gently, slid his hand down over Dean’s cock. It’s hot and throbbing and wet. Mostly because Dean would not expect it.   
Dean moaned a little, his head snapped forward and he looked down to focus on the hand at his cock. Any desire he had to keep quiet went completely out the window when he whimpered out loud. Shocked that his brother put his hand on his dick… shocked at how good it feels… and relief perhaps because he wanted it.   
“…Wha- Sammy…” His voice high and shaky as he moved his hand away, allowing Sam to fully wrap his hand around him. Its unbelievable. Sam’s hands are large and soft and amazingly warm and tender. Dean still fumbled at his balls as Sam stroked him. Completely forgetting that Sam was doing this to forcing him to talk about his damned emotions.  
“…its okay… talk to me.” Sam said. He couldn’t help the shake of his whisper as he climbed on the bed on his knees beside Dean. (I’m sorry… I ‘m really high right now and while I am writing I am dancing and lip synching LOL so I have no idea what I am writing… just going at it LOL sorry for that little interruption folks, we return you to your regularly scheduled program…)  
“What the hell do you want me to say…’ Dean said through his teeth. Somehow Sam’s hand felt so good against him… and he is even climbing on the bed too. This is not going the way he thought it would. His hand bumped up against Sam’s palm slowly.   
“Why you’ve been such an asshole for the last week!” Sam said stubbornly as he leaned forward, his hand on the bed brushed Dean’s ribs. He started to rotate his wrist and brought it up and down on Dean’s cock the way he likes it done to his own cock. Dean’s leg came up in a half bend as he lifted his hips to push harder into Sam’s hand.   
“What I’m not allowed to be cranky? It’s a free fucking country!” Dean asked as he brought his hand that was closest to his brother up and between Sam’s long thin legs and touched the boner tenting his jeans. Sam jerked back a little but didn’t pull away completely. Dean was still able to touch him lightly and somehow just this skin to jeans contact made him even hotter, harder.   
“A week? You won’t even make eye contact with Cass. Jack is avoiding you… The only one you will somewhat look at is me. Even for you that is not normal.” Sam added as he moved his thigh to the right and allowed Dean to caress him thru the jeans.   
“… Can you squeeze a little more?” Dean answered with the request as he fumbled with one hand to find the zipper of Sam’s jeans. When he finally grasped it, he pulled it down clumsily. There was heat radiating out from the opening in the zipper. Sam is getting excited too. Who knew?  
“…Dean…” Sam wasn’t even going to try to straighten this back out. Dean’s fingers found their way into his jeans and were touching his boxers, feeling the engorged flesh under it. Sam closed his eyes as he lifted a little and angled his hips to allow Dean more reach. His own hand coming down with a soft thumb against Dean’s pubis. With every palm to cock base connection, Dean grunted and brought his hips into them with equal measure.   
“…mmm that’s good, Sammy. I didn’t even think you knew how to jerk off. You seem so prudish.” Dean whispered as he smiled down at Sam. It was the first smile in a long time. Sam was mildly insulted by that. Dean knows Sam has had sex. He saw it a few times and then there was Jess. Dean is just trying to irritate him. Dean never takes things seriously or allows himself to feel the full effect of his emotions, preferring to stay comfortably numb. So, Sam made it a point to throw him another curveball. Something Dean would not expect. Sam leaned forward and slipped his mouth over Dean’s cock.  
Dean shot up in a half sitting position, reaching forward with his other hand with the idea of pushing Sam away. But when Sam started swirling his tongue along the underside of his head, Dean struggled with the motion. Holy shit how did Sam get so good at sucking cock? He thought to ask, but the words froze in his throat for a moment. For one thing, Sam sunk his mouth all the way down Dean’s cock and it was amazing. Especially when he moaned at the end, sending little vibrations down Dean’s shaft. Secondly… he realized now he didn’t want to know how Sam got so good at it. He didn’t care. All he knew was he was extremely turned on right now and Sam is sinking his mouth down over him like a pro.   
Sam felt that victory spasm in his chest. The one a winner gets when they know they have bested someone who has been at the game longer. He closed his eyes tight as he rolled his tongue all over Dean’s dick, sucking it, nipping it so that he can feel the veins pulsing with heated blood against his lips. Taste the pre cum and the slight salt of Dean being cooped up in his jeans all day. Wow this is turning him on so hard. He pulled his mouth back with a pop before he turned his head and looked at his brother, who still, in the dark, looked a bit flabbergasted.   
“I know how to have sex, Dean.” Sam said sarcastically. Dean’s mouth opened and closed for a moment and then finally found an appropriate response. One that he knew Sam would pull back from.  
“You can suck dick… but can you do anything else?” Yes, Dean… poke the wasp nest some more. Get them nice and riled up so they will attack you. Sam raised up a little and pushed Dean back onto the bed, throwing his endless left leg over Dean’s hips and suddenly started undoing his belt. His button broke in his haste to open them and he reached his hand into his pants to pull out his cock, it was slightly wet and hot.  
“...oh, look at Sammy trying to be a big boy. Come on, Sammy… show your big brother what a man you are.” Dean teased as he watched Sam lean forward and the heads of their cocks touched. Dean’s body clenched all at once. The hot heat of Sam’s cock against him threw him dangerously close to the edge. Sam started swaying his hips. Smacking his dick against Dean’s. Dean was panting now as he looked down to watch.  
“MMmmm we’re sword fighting. Whose gonna win?” Dean tormented even more. Rather than let his brother know he is enjoying the touches. Dean went the pressure route, driving Sam to the edge and make it look like Sam was the one who wanted it. But if Dean knew his brother enough, he would already know Dean is doing this on purpose. Sam pressed his chest into Dean’s and forced him back into the bed hard. Sam breathed hard for a second and then pressed his mouth against Dean’s stopping the endless dirty talk. His hips moving hard from side to side and up and down, noting that as he did, Dean had grabbed Sam’s hips and was keeping pace.   
“Shut up, Dean. You’re still being a jerk!” Sam said as he moved to bite Dean’s ear. Dean crooned as his cock spasmed against Sam’s. His voice was starting to carry, and even Sam was starting to become more vociferous.   
“You wanted me to talk, Sam!” Dean said with a heated laugh. He pulled up Sam’s shirt so that their chest could touch, liking the way the hairs on Sam’s chest felt against his bare skin. Moving in unison, they fell quiet as they chased that inevitable culmination. Sam gripped the back of Dean’s head and focused solely on their cocks and mouths. How they felt when touching and the sounds of their carrying voices. He wouldn’t be surprised if others were here, they would hear the entire thing. The bed creaking, the sound of flesh smacking flesh and heavy panting and dirty talk. Moaning and groaning. This made them both so much hotter until the light in the hall became slightly brighter.   
They can hear someone walking around out in the map room.   
“Dean… Sam.’ Mary called as she placed bags down. “Cass? Jack?”   
Sam slapped his hand over Dean’s mouth as he continued to move despite their mother being no more than a hall and a room away. Dean’s muscles grew taught as he fought to keep his excitement at bay. This would be so much easier and safer if Sam would just stop! But even Dean had to admit… it felt too good to stop. Dean whimpered into Sam’s palm, worried about his mother coming down the hall and hearing them. He wanted to thrash his hips around, but the movement was limited to keep the bed from creaking too much. The movement was minute. But so intense as they jerked their hips back and forth in short light thrusts.   
“Oh my god…” Sam muttered as he pressed his mouth against the back of his hand that was clasped over Dean’s. Dean’s hands gripped and pulled Sam’s hips as their balls slapped against each other in feather touches.   
“Boys?” Mary called down the hall. Still Sam did not stop, nor did Dean. He redoubled his light yet furious pushes. Both brothers looking at the door for the dreaded shadow of feet under it.   
“…mmm…. mmm…. MMmmm…” Sam cried through his sealed lips. His hips lined up just right so that their cock heads slid over one another, their precum hot and mixing like a painter would do his colors on a pallet. At that point Dean could no longer focus on the door, his head and Sam’s were so hard and hot and rubbing against each other perfectly that it was hard to ignore. Or even put half of his attention on. Sammy will have to watch and stop it should mom get too close.   
Dean came as his body stiffened against Sam. Sam still holding Dean’s mouth tight, felt the hot seed spurt out between their bellies. And as the hot cum came out of Dean’s and it hit Sam’s slit, Sam burst all over Dean as well. They emptied as they rocked softly against one another, Sam watching the door with his hand over Dean’s mouth. Dean locked in an upward thrust as he shook and moaned through his nose as his mother went walking by the room. Someone she didn’t stop to check on Dean. She must be heading straight to Sam’s room. That would take her a few moments.   
Dean grabbed Sam’s backside and dared grind a little harder to feel more of his brothers’ cock sliding against him. Sam blew out a steady breath as he tried to ease himself down from his orgasm without making too much sound. He looked down at Dean.  
“She is heading to my room.” He said.  
“She will find out you’re not in there. What are you gonna say? She’ll come here next.” Dean said as Sam slipped his hand off Dean’s mouth. Sam swallowed and looked from side to side for a second before he slipped backward and snatched up Dean’s t shirt off the floor and used it to wipe their cum off his dick and belly. He is still slightly engorged, but he stuffed it down into his pants anyway and through the shirt at Dean.  
“Clean off… I heard her knock on my door.” Sam said quietly as he arranged his clothing. Dean was not too happy about Sam using his shirt to clean himself, but they couldn’t leave the room to get a towel. So, he too used the shirt to clean up his mess and shove himself into his pants again. He hastily turned over and tossed the soiled shirt under the bed when a knock came on the door.   
“Dean?” Mary called gently. Sam ran across the room as quietly as he could and threw himself in the chair and made it appear he was asleep. Dean stopped where he lay also pretending to sleep as the door opened.  
“Boys?” She called into the dark room. She flicked on the light to see both of her boys there. Dean sleeping in his bed and Sam passed out in the chair. She smiled. She was touched at how Sam, despite how Dean has been lately, is still willing to sit in the room with Dean and be with him even if Dean won’t talk to him. She smiled a little wide until she could smell just how musty the room was. It was heavy and stale smelling. She made a mental note to tell Dean to get any dirty dishes out of his room and open the door to air it out. She shut off the light and then backed out of the room and closed the door.   
They dared no move while they can hear their mother walking around out in the map room. After about twenty minutes, the lights turned down again and they heard Mary walk by. She must be heading to her room. Still they did not move. Not until five minutes after they heard their mother’s door close did Dean mutter with a grin in his tone.  
“Bitch…”  
“Jerk…” Sam smiled a little. Dean only does that when he is in good humor.


	4. Half Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rewrite of a scene in 14X10 Nihilism  
> between Michael!Dean and Castiel  
> added to it. Because dammit. I wanted Michael to torment Cas about Dean's feelings for him.

He looks like Dean. He smells like Dean. The faint odor of booze and cologne.   
But he’s not Dean. It’s Michael. The light mist of archangel grace wreathing him is evidence enough.  
Castiel could see that. He could see it and it hurt him so much he could hardly look at him.   
Michael is cruel and sadistic. Yet his manner of speaking lofted even the vilest insults to sophistication. He reveled in making things miserable for them with that smug self-satisfied look on his face even though he was the one chained to the balustrade.   
They captured Michael and he is using every known technique in the book to break as many minds as he can. Mixing lies with truths to torture the one foolish enough to stand and listen. Utilizing the things in Dean’s mind to torment them.  
Castiel had heard enough of Michael’s poison being spewed at Jack as he walked to the War Room to take over. He had to intervene. The boy had not made a sound but the look on his youthful face was plain enough that Michael’s barbs were getting into him. Jack had stumped away, looking rumpled as if he has just caught his breath again after being punched in the gut.   
Sending Jack to help Sam, Castiel turned toward the man sitting chained to the pillar near the stairs. His anger at the little he did hear very evident on Castiel’s face. Michael looked back unconcerned about any damage he may have caused the Nephilim as Castiel came down the few steps into the War Room and sat at the table, only slightly facing Michael.   
“Jack is too smart to let your poison affect him, Michael,” Castiel said sternly. Michael chuckled as he leaned his head back.   
“Really? He looked pretty upset to me. I have to admit it, Castiel… Seeing the Nephilim respond to you is quite endearing. He seems to really think you and the Winchesters will save the day. He has you wrapped around his little fingers, doesn’t he?”   
“Jack is his own man. We only guide him. Teach him the right way. Jack is pure.” Castiel said. Michael lifted an eyebrow.  
“Oh really? Your Nephilim is… pure? You never saw him in my world. He is anything but a pure being, Castiel. No more than he is your child to keep and guide. Nephilim are abominations. They are not meant to exist. The only thing he should be is a memory.” Michael said.  
“Jack is my son! He is Dean’s son. He is Sam’s son!” Castiel said angrily.   
“Look at you. Playing nursemaid to the Nephilim.’ Michael jeered softly. “Nothing like the Castiel I knew.’ Michael said as he looked down at his interlinking fingers that rested on his knee. “He would’ve never been so… anemic. Least of all a part of a trio of fathers to something so unnatural.”   
“You’re confusing loyalty and compassion with weakness,” Castiel said as he kept his eyes averted from Dean. Michael. Preferring to look at the war table rather than the face he loved and the monster now in the driver’s seat. But he heard Michael chuckle and his eyes, betraying him, went to the man sitting in front of him. Their eyes connected and Castiel could no longer pull his eyes away.   
Michael appraised Castiel for a minute before tilting his head to the side with a curious grin.   
“I have never seen an angel of the lord so… destitute. You have been around them for too long. You stink of them. You are almost too human now to be feasibly recognized as a Seraph anymore.” Michael leaned forward a little. “You were a Seraph… you commanded armies of Heaven. You were supposed to be right under the light of our father. A warrior. Yet you drive a car. You have eaten their food. Mingled with their women. Indulged in their… trite little customs.”  
“You say this as if I am to be insulted by it. I love humans. We were meant to protect them. And I have rather enjoyed getting to know them and their customs.” Castiel said.  
“Did it occur to you that your grace is faded? I cannot really see your light, Castiel.” Michael said as his eyes flickered up and down Castiel’s form. “You have no wings. You’re broken. You put yourself in danger the longer you mingle with these vermin.”   
“My grace is not faded because of being with the humans,” Castiel said stonily as he looked back at the table, his fingers wrapping tight around the arm of the chair. Michael chuckled softly.  
“Tell me… Why do you love this world enough to risk your own life?” Michael was genuinely curious. This level of devotion to these bottom feeders is confusing for one of Castiel’s stature. He isn’t your garden variety angel. It just didn’t seem right that such a powerful entity would even bother. Its like humans loving insects. There is no purpose to them, yet they see some sort of value or seek out happiness in them. Michael hardly believed it was that simple for the Seraph. There is something specific that keeps him anchored here.   
“Unless it’s not just the humans in general. Do I need to be more explicit than that? Perhaps two specific humans and a Nephilim?”   
Castiel squinted his eyes as he stared into Michael’s face, hearing and feeling how much Michael detests him and the humans. How much he holds Dean Winchester in contempt. He didn’t understand why. Humans have things they would never have. And that only after being here among them, has Castiel only begin to grasp it. Michael must not have spent time amongst them, or he would see their lack of direction as a form of freedom. Or he did… and this is mere jealousy.   
“Tell me,” Castiel countered. “Why do you hate this world enough to burn it to the ground?”  
Michael grinned a little wider, revealing Dean’s beautiful white and even teeth. The smile, attractive and yet, out of place. Dean has never smiled like that. The effect on him was like distortion art. Sam had briefly explained what that meant to Castiel when one time observing The Scream by Edvard Munch. A self-assured intellectual and thoroughly intimidating presence in one man. Yet Dean swam just below the surface just as coarse and driven as always. The dynamic is unsettling.   
“Because I can,” Michael said arrogantly. “Because…” Michael paused for a moment as he looked at Castiel. A bit of Dean’s past came up like a paper caught in the wind. Michael saw it, observed it, and picked it apart as if he were searching for clues.   
The image of Dean laughing and drinking with Castiel and Sam.  
Dean being destroyed by his brother. He sees himself standing there talking to this world’s Lucifer all dressed up for the party in his Sam Winchester suit. Sam was never in Michael’s world. He was never born into existence. Lucifer was in a different vessel.   
He sees a brief moment Dean held onto Castiel’s trench coat. It is soaked in the angel’s vessel’s blood. The man loves this angel. But he was not sure what the love meant. All he knew was it hurt. It hurt so badly. The memory. Michael tilted his head at Castiel before he continued.  
“Me and my brother, my Lucifer…’ He said softly, “When we fought in my world… we thought that God would come back.” Michael said. A glimmer in his eyes made Castiel look away for the first time. Self-denial, assuredly. Castiel is too in love with the humans and his God to see that perhaps their fate was ever similar to the world from which Michael came from.   
“You know how God is. The fact that he has never come back to stop your world’s destruction just meant that you chose that path. A sequence of events must have happened in your world to stop him from coming.”  
“Yes… the things that have happened in this world stopped him from saving mine!” Michael said.

“God did not stop the Apocalypse here either! Sam and Dean did!” Castiel said proudly. “You can hardly expect Him to step in when you so willingly want to destroy what He has created!”   
“It doesn’t matter in the long run. The things He cares for do not last. Not ever. Saving something as insignificant as humans is a waste. They can all burn. But for us, Castiel… we were his first. Don’t you want to know why? I would want him to give us answers.”  
“What questions do you purpose to think important enough for God to answer?” Castiel asked. Michael furrowed his brow for a moment.   
“Why He’d gone. What we’d done.” Michael enumerated the questions as if they would be obvious. “It seems that even I am capable of some sentimentality toward our father. Because in my world we will never get the answers we seek. No… instead, do you know what happened?” Castiel looked back at him for the answer. Although he knew what it would be.  
“Nothing.” Michael’s face fell. Michael left no room for doubt that he was angered by this. “No God… Nothing.” He shook Castiel to the core with the timber of his voice and the anger in his being.   
“And now…’ Michael continued. “Now that I’m in here. Now I know why.” Michael could feel the endless trauma inside Dean. He understood why he couldn’t hold him before; the answers were so obvious that he let himself get a little deeper into Dean’s mind. The first time he took over Dean, he didn’t want to get in too deep because he didn’t care to know the man. He just needed his body. A moment of weakness that won’t happen again. He had to properly know the man in order to break him or get him to submit and it is absurdly easy to pacify him.   
Not only that but if he had dug deeper at first, he would have understood more about this world. How… the Winchesters have actually met the Lord. And how The Lord… hid in a human vessel. How he coward before the things he created, deciding to leave and not help the things who looked to him for it. But this world, for some reason, God had seen fit to keep intervening. Like the number of times he has brought back Castiel. He has never done that in Michael’s world. Things that died tended to 6stayed dead.  
“God…’ Michael sneered. “Chuck? He’s a writer. And like all writers, he churns out draft after draft. My world?’ Michael paused to look around the bunker. “This… world? Nothing but failed drafts.” He said coldly as he looked back at Castiel.   
“And when he realizes they’re flawed he moves on and tries again!”   
Castiel always viewed the worlds as homes with Gods’ children living in it. Yes, each world has the same children in it depending on the way the story of their world goes, but he cannot think that God created them and just left them because they weren’t good enough. God is supposed to love all. He is their father. Fathers aren’t supposed to choose between his children.   
“No, that’s not how…’ Castiel paused. “Why would he do that?”  
“Because he doesn’t care,” Michael raised his voice and it was like a wave of energy hit Castiel. A swift-moving cloud of rage, palpable and painful as Michael’s face turned to stone. “…about you. Me. Anything.”   
Castiel could not even respond to this. If God had not cared… why had he set these things in motion? Why would he have come back to help with Amara? He came out of hiding to save that small town being devoured by The Darkness. Why hadn’t Chuck just done the same for the other worlds… for Michael’s world. It is not so difficult to see that Michael is bitter toward his father and this hatred is the byproduct of being abandoned.  
“Now, at first, I thought I’d do it better.’ He smiled. “Make worlds as he did, but in my image. One world. Not millions of failed projects. Make the subjects perfect and loyal. Only to worship me. And I would be there to weed out the weak and the ignorant. Enslave the ones who would stand against me. Raise the ones who fight for me to destroy the rest. They would love me unconditionally. Kill and die for me. I would be more of a god than God.”   
“We are not capable of that power, Michael,” Castiel said.  
“You aren’t. I have been there; I have seen how the old man does it.” Michael said.  
“And look at what you did. You are no different than Him! You are using this world to make your creations! Killing indiscriminately! You made the choices for these creatures! Tortured and killed many people for your own means! This world is not your petri dish!” Castiel shouted.   
“That was when I first entered this world. But now? Now I just want to burn every one of his little worlds until I catch up to the old man…” said Michael. He hasn’t removed his eyes from Castiel. Their eyes locked so that neither one could or would look away. It was as if their conversation was more than just words and the meaning behind them. It was as if their grace had touched each other. Metal attracting a magnet. A fascinating dread came over Castiel as he felt the ice from Michael’s words fill him in the inside like the burn of subzero temperature waters.   
“And then what?” Castiel asked softly.   
“…Even God can die.” Michael said with a snarl and Castiel held his gaze for a moment before looking away. Breaking eye contact first. Michael leaned back in the chair feeling he had won that argument as he observed Castiel lost in thought. No doubt searching his mind and heart for ways to play the Winchesters and the humans into the story like they made the slightest bit of difference. The Nephilim already did. They hang too much on these two humans that have only ever messed up and made things worse.  
“Dean and Sam… they won’t let you do that. They will stop you! I will stop you! So help me, Michael. You may not care about these humans or the humans that lived in your world, but I do! And for you to succeed in this chase of yours, you will have to go through me, Sam and Dean!” Castiel threatened. He knew he could not really take on an archangel even if he was at full power. Furthermore, he cannot fight him without harming Dean. He couldn’t.   
“As I said to the Nephilim-‘  
“His name is Jack! He isn’t a thing! He is a person! He has a soul!” Castiel shouted back. Michael merely smiled and tilted his head again as if Castiel had not spoken.   
“I am a god… compared to you and… Jack. And your precious Winchester brothers? They will snap under my shoe like a bug. No human is a match for me.” Michael actually laughed a little. “Besides. Why would you want to save Dean? Sam, I can understand a little more… his sweetness… his understanding. So much the sensitive type it’s a bit nauseating, to be honest. But Dean, he is so abrasive. I see he has been cruel to you a number of times. I wonder why?”   
“He had his reason…” Castiel said as he looked down at his knees.   
“Like what? What could you have done that would justify the way he treated you after everything you have done for him?” Michael asked as he leaned forward in his chair again, closing the gap between himself and the other angel.   
Castiel has caused problems in the past with the idea that he had done the right thing but… it always blew up in his face and the one who always came down on him the hardest was Dean. The way Dean showed his frustration with stupid mistakes is very blunt and severe, taking every screw up personally whether it was him or not. He regards any mistake made by himself and those closest to him to reflect poorly on them as a group and him as a person as if he thought he was supposed to pick and choose perfectly every single time like he was meant to deny that part of him that is human.  
“I do not have to justify the way he treats me with the fact that I have saved him from Hell,” Castiel said angrily.   
“He wishes you hadn’t saved him; you know. He cannot stand being beholden to you. He feels like he is chained to you. He feels trapped by you.” Michael added with a hiss. Castiel turned his head away, evidently, it hurt.  
“I don’t believe you.”  
“Oh, but you don’t think I am telling the truth. Or that I am somehow omitting some juicy details to make your precious Dean look even more like a mean knuckle-dragging parasite?” Michael smiled as he leaned a little closer toward Castiel.  
“Dean is not pure. He is not innocent. No human is.” Castiel snarled at him. His heart thundering with his feelings for Dean. “But Dean is a fighter. He stands for what he believes. He is fierce and loyal. And he is worth far more than any Angel of the Lord… even you and me.”   
“Wow, have you said that to him, lately?” Michael grinned. But there was also no mistaking that expression of disgust on his face.   
Castiel did not answer, he just looked at Michael in silent warning.  
“No? Shall I tell you exactly what Dean thinks of you?” Michael tormented Castiel with his words, his bitter and petulant sneer firmly in place.   
“I know what he thinks of me. He told me I am family.” Castiel said as he turned his face away from Michael. Michael leaned forward a little more and whispers.  
“What makes you think that he only has one feeling about you?” Michael grinned and licked his teeth. "Humans also lie. They have a habit of saying one thing and meaning something else. Did it occur to you that he may have admitted familial closeness to you so that you would stay close and he can keep a good eye on you?"  
Castiel shoots him a warning look again.  
“That’s what is wrong with you, Castiel… you are too narrow-minded. Dean is human. A sad excuse and a waste of time for our father.” Michael hissed. But his words, still silky and precise, so unlike Dean yet… his voice. “Dean is also complex. He has a plethora of emotions he refuses to share. Opting to keep them so deep inside he can comfortably deny them. It’s no wonder they are so puny. Being crushed under the weight of all that sentiment. Dean is so broken by his emotions that he is only being held together by the thin adhesive of hope. And even that is sparse. Most of his surface emotion is anger, but… you. Oh… His thoughts of you span across a very wide spectrum, Castiel.”   
“You will just tell me half-truths, Michael. I won’t believe a thing you say.” Castiel insisted.  
“Dean is afraid.’ Michael continued as if Castiel had never spoken. “He is afraid of what he feels. About you.”   
Castiel ignored the statement. He knew Michael was just trying to bate him.   
“Do you remember when you let the Leviathan out of Purgatory? How you… tried to be God?’ Michael watched the slightest movement in Castiel’s face signifying that the memory was painful. “… and you killed all those angels in heaven? That may be the closest I think he got to hating you, Castiel. I think you and I are a little more alike than I initially thought.”  
Castiel turned his face away. “You are confusing anger and disappointment with hatred. And even if Dean hated me, it was justified.”  
“Ah yes, but then he thought you died after you returned those souls to Purgatory.” Michael shook his head in disbelief. “You let go of all that power. For what? Because you didn’t want Dean Winchester to hate you?”  
“I let them go because it was the right thing to do! Because I had become no different than the monsters they killed on a daily basis.” Castiel said. “Because I had turned on my friends. I even threatened to kill them. That is not including what I did to Heaven. And the other humans.”  
“But then the Leviathan stuck around and killed you again. And Dean was left mourning you. He kept that trench coat of yours. He either needed it as a keepsake of you. Or… he knew you would come back. It seems a little romantic doesn’t it?” Michael asked. “You were gone for quite a while. He missed you terribly.”  
Castiel looked down at his knees again and bit his lips. But when comment didn’t seem to be forthcoming, Michael grinned and continued.   
“But then… he saw you again. And even though the wound was deep, he… Dean… helped you. Cared what happened to you. Did you know that he wept over you? So far there have only ever been two people in Dean’s life that made him cry this way. His little brother… and his father. Their damned indigence and codependence on… love and acceptance and purpose over hollow inconsequential paths to enlightenment and... esprit de corps.”   
“That is what makes him human! That is what makes them all more worthy than of any of us!” Castiel said loudly.   
“These humans?’ Michael simpered. “They are maggots. No matter who is favored by the likes of you.”  
“You completely misunderstand and underestimate them. If you believe that of the humans… of Dean and Sam… you will die, Michael.”  
“And so will your precious Dean,” Michael said as he slid his tongue across his teeth again. He observed with great curiosity the way Castiel looked at the vessel's face. The sadness in his eyes. And he understood.  
“You love this face,” Michael said as a matter of fact. Castiel lowered his face to hide it.   
“He is my family-“ Castiel said.  
“You don’t have a family. Your family was the now decimated Heavenly Host of your world. But you are not family to Sam and Dean Winchester. You are… as Dean so blithely put it… an Insurance Policy they can take on a hunt.”   
“Michael… I have heard enough.” Castiel warned.  
“He hates you, really,” Michael said sourly. Castiel turned his face away and Michael chuckles. “He hates that he met you. Because for the first time in his fleeting life, you made him feel things no one else has. And he doesn’t like it. No… that is a lie. Even you know that on some level. Dean doesn’t hate you. In fact, Castiel… I do believe this pretty face sees you the same way you see him. If Dean had really hated you, you wouldn’t have stuck around. He probably would have killed you… savior or not.”   
Something flutters in Castiel’s chest.  
“It’s your eyes. When he looks at them, he gets the sensation of sinking into warm blue waters of the Caribbean. But he also recognizes that he has never done that and can only imagine what it feels like.”  
“I’m not listening to you.” Castiel’s voice trembles as he struggles to not let his head run with an image that is likely untrue. He has felt things from Dean. Felt things that went just slightly beyond the love of a friend. But he just chalked it up to not completely understanding the tangled web of human intent and emotions.   
“You think I am lying about that,” Michael stated. “If you think I am… come here… I will show you what he feels.” Michael shifted in the chair. The chains around his wrists clinked a little as he crossed his legs the other way. Castiel just looked at him suspiciously.  
“It is not your business to give Dean’s secrets away. Even if they are his real feelings, he has a right to keep them away or let them out without you making him!”   
“And yet… you are still curious. I don’t need to be in your head to see that light in your eyes. To feel your vessel's heart race at the thought of learning just what Dean has in his head for you. It's like… opening a gift on Christmas morning. The sparkle and temptation of anticipation and pleasure. I can let you unwrap this little box of delicious human passion like a present, Castiel.”   
All the while, as Michael tempted Castiel, the angel had moved closer as if he was mesmerized. His hand coming up shakily, as if he was going to hit Dean. But… he couldn’t. He knew it was really Michael talking but… it is still Dean’s face. However deep inside, Dean is still in there.  
“I am an archangel. My powers are much stronger than yours, brother. I… can open Dean up like a cornucopia. Bare his heart to you. These…’ Michael hinted down at the cuffs. “They will only keep me from flying away. You cannot stop me from utterly tormenting you or anyone else. So why… do you fight me and your impulses?”  
“Because… it’s not my right to Dean’s… to anything of Dean.” Castiel’s knees were almost against Michael’s. He was looking down at him. So many feelings going through him. Anger. Concern. Worry. Love. Protection. He wanted his Dean back because looking at Michael was too much like a mockery.   
“Why? You gripped him tight… saved him from perdition… Don’t you think he…owes you something?”   
“No. He owes me nothing.” Castiel lowered his hand and began to turn away when Michael brought his tethered hands forward and locked those fingers around Castiel’s. Castiel froze and looked tremulously down at Dean’s… no, Michael’s fingers twined with his. He was going to pull away… but… he couldn’t. Not physically… mentally. His curiosity too strong as images of Dean flooded his head. Most of them consisted of Dean looking at Castiel… focusing on his eyes and his lips. Dean’s heart races when he touches Castiel’s hand. His knees wobble one time at the act of touching Castiel’s wrist.   
“Cas…” Dean whispers. Castiel’s eyes snap open and he turned to look down at those green eyes he has adored for so long and the face had changed ever so slightly. The smugness was gone… no… it had to be a trick.   
“…Dean…” Castiel muttered as he faced Dean fully. “You must eject Michael. You cannot let him stay in your body! He will destroy you!”  
“Cas, listen to me… Tell… Tell Sammy I am sorry. Tell mom and Jack I love them.” Dean’s eyes started to water. Castiel gripped Dean’s shoulders and looked at him closely. Almost desperate and pleading.   
“Dean! Cast Michael out! I won’t let you go! I won’t let you fail! Say… Say yes to me. Let me in and I will… I will help you cast him out!”  
“I can’t. We won’t be strong enough. Castiel… I’m sorry.” Dean said and Castiel pulled back a little. He knew Dean enough to know this is unlike him. Even in his most trying times, it is highly unlikely that Dean would apologize for this much. It is unlikely that Dean would throw in the towel like this if he knew doing so would put the people he loved in greater risk if he didn’t fight. Then… then there was the use of his name. Dean has only ever called him ‘Castiel’ two or three times since meeting. Dean always says ‘Cas’. Always. When he is angry, sad, content… it is always Cas.   
Castiel tried to back away but Dean’s grip hardened on his hand. He looked mildly terrified as he gripped for the angel.  
“Cas… where are you going?! Please… look at me and tell me you forgive me.” Dean begged. Another thing he rarely ever did. Not for forgiveness.   
“You’re not Dean,” Castiel whispered as he looked down at Dean. Wanting to help him.   
“Yes, I am! I can feel Michael fighting me to get back control! Please Cas, I don’t have much time!” He said hurriedly as he ‘pretended’ to struggle with something big inside him. He won the battle but just barely. He looked back up at Castiel. “Cas… kiss me… I need you to kiss me.”  
Those words. As soon as they came out of Dean’s mouth, Castiel felt weak in his knees. He never imagined he would hear him say such a thing to him. And it was much more than the auditory pleasure of hearing those words said in his voice, it was the expression he wore. The way his lips moved to form the simple request. The sight of his teeth and tongue moving just behind his beautiful lips. Castiel leaned forward and watched how Dean’s eyes, so lovely and shining, flickered down to his lips and back to his eyes as he tipped his head back to offer his own.  
Castiel’s nose came down to brush lightly across the side of Dean’s nose and their lips touched too gently to even count before Dean gasped at the contact. His eyes closed but he pushed forward right against Castiel’s lips, opening his mouth, forcing his tongue into the angels’ mouth, ecstatic with how receptive Castiel is. With how he shakes at the sensation. Dean growled low in his throat as his fingers came up to clutch at the collar of Castiel’s jacket to hold him there as he deepened the kiss.  
Castiel’s hands came up and cupped Dean’s neck and jaw. He never knew it was possible to see white… to have the light kissed out of you. He felt weak as he fell into the kiss. His knees trembling. His thumbs ran down over Dean’s jaw and traced down his Adam's apple. The stubble under his thumbs pleased him. The warm skin. The taste of his lips and tongue. The frantic way Dean grabbed at him.   
Dean pulled his mouth away slightly just to whisper, “I love you.” Before he went to move back in but found Castiel was moving away. Dean looked up at the angel in confusion.   
“Castiel, What-where are you going?”   
“You’re not Dean,” Castiel said again only this time he was certain. Dean shook his head in confusion.  
“What are you talking about, yes I am!”  
“No. This is why you will lose, Michael. Dean… would never have said ‘I love you’, to me… or kiss me. Even if he really does care for me that way.” Castiel said as he leaned with his hand on the corner of the table. Dean sat back a little to consider what Castiel said.  
“I just did…” He said plainly.   
“Dean is not some primal animal relying on basal instincts to survive and procreate. He may act like it sometimes, but he is so much more.” Castiel whispered. “He will think that times are too uncertain. Too volatile for a relationship. He learned that not so long ago. He knows that either one of us could die at any time. He would rather keep his feelings a secret rather than letting me know to save himself the pain should I die.” Castiel stood up and looked down his nose at Michael.   
“And… He would not want me to tell him for the same reason.”  
“What- Because I don’t want you to hurt if I die?” Dean… Michael tried to ask.  
“Exactly,” Castiel said and his expression turned sad before it suddenly morphed into anger. “And you called me Castiel. Twice. Dean would not call me Castiel. He has only ever done it thrice since I’ve known him. I am not a fool, Michael.”   
Dean leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs again. His hands, still bound, came down to rest on his lap and he smiled. That same smug grin that clearly told Castiel he viewed him as a worm.  
“That IS your name,” Michael said casually. Michael saw this as a possible means to an end. Perhaps he can sway Castiel still with an offer he wouldn’t want to refuse. Uncertainty can turn into certainty if Michael offers the right gifts. “And perhaps… if you fall in line with me, brother… Help me destroy all of our fathers' works, I will let you have Dean. I will spare him. I will keep him and his brother and the Nephilim away from the war. And when it is over, and I am God… I will let you stand beside me and you will have Dean Winchester all to yourself.”   
Michael’s head rocked backward on its neck when Castiel finally snapped and sunk his fist into one of the green eyes. Castiel looked livid. He could have kept going. He could have wailed the hell out of Michael, but he held back. His fist up at his shoulder, getting ready to strike as he held the tie around Michael’s neck.   
“Even if I was as treacherous to them as that, it would never work! Again, you misjudge! Sam, Dean, and Jack would never allow that to happen. And if they were subdued and protected until you destroyed their world, they would come after you and me…’ Castiel’s fist shuttered as he struggled to keep from hitting Michael again.  
“Keep hitting me if it makes you feel better, Castiel. It won’t change my proposition. Or the guarantee that I will win. And I will destroy this world. And you if you do not join me.”  
Castiel stood there for a moment with his fist suspended where he raised it. He shook with anger. They have already suffered so much. Heaven was supposed to save the humans. They had all forgotten their duty and it has cost them so much. Yet they still try. They still fight back. It is something that Michael wasn’t aware of or if he is, he doesn’t see the threat. He is foolish. And he is bating. Castiel dropped his hand and released Michael and backed away.  
“I would rather die with the humans attempting to bring you down. I will die with my real family. I will fight and die with Jack… Sam… and Dean. And when you die, Michael, or we have you locked in a cage… perhaps you will learn your lesson about humans. But I am not so optimistic about that.”   
Michael could do nothing but smile at that moment as Castiel sat on the other side of the room, well away from him and his back to him.  
“All will fall to pieces.” Michael smiled.


	5. After the Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gadreel is coming to terms with his new life. Trying to work through past events and understand current events.  
> Gadreel lives and is allowed, like Castiel, to take refuge with the Winchesters and he takes a special interest in Sam. Who reminds him of a former lover.

_His eyes flickered as he felt burning brands touching his skin through the bars of his cell. The sensation so vivid and horrible that even in this memory form, it made him scream out in sleep._

_His voice was echoed from the cell beside him. Hot spears thrust through the bars of the other cell, piercing Abner over and over. Their eternal punishment for being misled and convinced of Lucifer’s deceitful stories._

_Gadreel groaned in pain as he heard his best friend, his love, his brother, in the next cell crying in agony and despair. Gadreel could hardly lift himself off the ground after the last round of righteous torture and it forced him to crawl across the floor to his bars so he can reach out for Abner’s hand._

_Gadreel did this every time they were tortured. He knew that if Abner never reached back to take his hand, he was never coming back. So, the fear mounted that this time, as he grew closer to the bars and slid his left arm out, that Abner’s soft fingers would never touch back._

_There is a heaviness on his shoulders that he could not understand. The guard must have hurt his wings when he was unconscious. His fingers stretched out and shook there for a second before a slightly smaller hand came around the corner and entwined in his._

_“Abner! My friend! I feared-‘Gadreel said breathlessly._

_“It would take more than this to break me, My love.’ Abner said with a soft chuckle that turned into a weak cough. Gadreel pressed the side of his face against the bars, wishing he could look at him. See him and check to make sure his friend is okay._

_“Your grace. Do you have enough to heal yourself?” Gadreel asked quickly, hurriedly. As if he had envisioned a gawdy arterial gush of blood from a deep and fatal wound. Abner choked a little and chuckled, though it bubbled in his throat and Gadreel squeezed his hand._

_“I have enough to talk to you, Gadreel. I used some of it just to reach your hand.’ Abner whispered and took a deep breath and returned Gadreel’s hand squeeze. “I don’t know if I can survive another one of these, Gadreel, my love. And for the first time since the beginning of our imprisonment, I am afraid.”_

_“No, don’t talk that way, Abner. Here, take a little of my grace-“Gadreel had every intent to grab a piece of stone shard on the floor littering his cell, and use it to gash his neck and pull out some of his grace to aide Abner. But before he could find one suitable and release Abner’s fingers long enough to fetch it, Abner had gripped Gadreel’s hand hard._

_“No, Gadreel!’ Abner said forcefully. “I am not taking your grace! You need that for yourself! You need to have enough strength to heal yourself and flee when you get out of here.”_

_“I won’t watch you suffer!” Gadreel said and his voice cracked. For a moment there was no response._

_“You have to, Gadreel. Just as I have to watch you be tortured. It is our punishment for our weakness. We destroyed our Father’s work of art because we believed what Lucifer said. A decision I will regret for the rest of my life, my love.” Abner whispered as his eyes closed. Just thinking that there was no way out and he was going to pass into The Empty soon. Another regret surfaced. Is that he will finally find peace before Gadreel, leaving him in the lurch alone._

_And Suddenly they are falling. They are all falling. Torment. Bedlam as wings burn off like the head of a daisy when set on fire. The confusion ensues when Gadreel learned he was free and amongst angels, he didn’t recognize even though his eyes only sought out Abner’s._

_He felt that heaviness on his shoulders again. Perhaps his wings are still damaged. He looks up and sees angels falling from the sky, screaming in fear and misdirection._

_“Abner! I am here! Abner, come to me!” Gadreel called as he homed in on a potential vessel. He fell like a meteor and was hundreds of miles from impact before he contacted the host vessel. But he could not hear him amongst angel radio. On no frequency could he hear him._

_“Abner! Please!” Gadreel begged loudly as the answer ‘yes’ came to him. And when Gadreel opened his eyes, he was looking at a vehicle before him. His hand out with a key as if he meant to unlock the car door._

_He cried out. Lost. Worried for Abner. With their grace on short rations, it will be hard to find him. And when they fell, Abner was already wounded. This brought home another issue. Gadreel is a fugitive. Not all angels will know him, but some may. And if it gets back to the ones that do know him, he will be hunted and killed. Gadreel didn’t know the first thing about living as a human._

_He looked down at his arms, powerful and pale. He looked down at his core and it was the same, he lifted his shirt to see a finely chiseled physique and just as pale as his arms and hands. He appears strong. But he wasn’t sure if that was enough._

_And secondly, why had the angels fallen? What happened in heaven that he can hear his brothers and sisters screaming from all around? Gadreel pressed his back against the vehicle and wept into his knees. He could not help them. He turned his head and looked to see his own wings had been charred black, feathers falling lazily away._

_So many of them afraid. Calling out. How many of them can hear Abner?_

“Gadreel,” a voice said to his side and Gadreel blinked and came back to his current situation. He turned his eyes to Sam. “What’s going on? You looked like you checked out for a second.” 

Gadreel blinked again and faced the road, focusing on the yellow lines pass under the nose of the car. Deciding to focus on something other than what he was just reliving. 

“I believe humans call it flashbacks. No need to worry, Samuel. I will not let them decrease my effectiveness to the cause.” Gadreel answered in his customary proper fashion and it made Sam smile a little. 

“I wasn’t worried about your effectiveness. I was worried because I care about you.” Sam said earnestly. Gadreel already knew this. But he was also taken aback at Sam’s constant self-assurance. Gadreel still had issues with what he was led to do. But rather for his mistakes, and being punished for hundreds of years, his new friends have given him a chance to prove he is worthy of respect and redemption. 

Just like when he was misled by Lucifer, he allowed himself to be duped by Metatron. He was forced to kill Abner. His love. His friend. His brother. And for a misguided and peevish little scribe having a fit. Any regret that Gadreel still head, was overshadowed by raising a weapon against Abner. It matters not that he felt he was doing it to save the angels to reclaim his former grace amongst his brothers and sisters. That should not have been worth Abner’s life. 

“I still feel unworthy of care of this magnitude, Samuel. I have made many grave mistakes. I must atone for the first and reclaim my honor.” He said seriously as he looked at Sam. Sam, who was looking at the road as Gadreel spoke just sat with his mouth slightly parted. 

Then he smiled and Gadreel noticed the shine of the sun off Sam’s teeth. The slight twinkle of moistness on his lips as they spread cheerily and consolingly. Samuel reminded Gadreel of Abner in a lot of ways. How Abner used to be carefree and sensitive. He smiled a lot and could smile the sadness out of anyone. 

“I hate to tell you that, you, in that body, have to deal with humans. Humans tend to care. And if you find a human who cares enough about you, they will do anything to help you. We are stubborn and willful to a fault. So, if you want to atone for your mistakes, you will just have to swallow that at least you will have me to help you.” 

“Thank you, Samuel. I appreciate your friendship.” Gadreel said and smiled. Unable to take his eyes off Sam’s lips. Sam licked his mouth as if he unconsciously knew Gadreel was observing them. 

“You can just call me Sam.” Sam laughed a little as he turned his head to throw Gadreel a look. His hair blowing in the wind with the turn of his head. Gadreel watched as the sun danced off every strand. Abner’s hair did that too. He reached over and placed a strong hand across Sam’s hand that was resting on his leg. 

“I will try to remember that, Sam.” Gadreel said quickly and pulled his hand back as if he had been burned. He sat straight. One would say he felt awkward. Sam wasn’t sure what happened. Gadreel has only been living with them for a few months and he is still pretty hard to understand. Castiel had learned to accurately display his emotion in a way that Sam and Dean will get. But Gadreel has hardly mastered the function, so all of his emotion sits the same on his face. 

“What is the matter with you?” Sam asked frowningly. 

“I am sorry. I was thinking of Abner.” Gadreel admitted flatly. Sam understood. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?” Sam asked sincerely. He had expected Gadreel to refuse to talk about Abner and what had happened. He had expected Gadreel to clamp right up. What he had not seen coming was Gadreel turning his watery blue eyes to him and saying.

“You remind me of Abner.” 

Sam wasn’t sure how to respond. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to say he was sorry. Or say thank you. He just didn’t know what the connection between himself and Abner was doing to Gadreel. Gadreel must have seen this struggle because he smiles sadly and looked away from Sam.

“It is a pleasant thing. Abner was everything to me. My friend. My lover. My brother. We have always been together. We kept each other alive. And I…’ Gadreel said and covered his mouth as his lips shook. Sam had never seen that much emotion of Gadreel’s face and it was really odd. 

“Dude, I can’t tell you it’s okay. That what you did was right.’ Sam said softly. The sun was starting to go down beyond the rim of the trees and throwing them in gentle shadows. “I have done many questionable things in my life too. I was misled. I allowed myself to be brought to Lucifer’s cage and let him out. I started the damned apocalypse.”

“It is not the same. I murdered someone I loved.” Gadreel said.

“No. But you did it because you thought you were doing the right thing. You were deluded. And you have now to try to undo as much of the damage as you can. Even the worst of the worst can turn over a new leaf and work to make amends. And you’re not out of the realm of reclamation. Just make every victory from here on out another stitch in the wound.” 

Sam wasn’t sure when Gadreel had turned to him. But Gadreel was staring at him the entire time with his mouth slightly open as if he was stunned into silence. After a few long moments of hard silence, Gadreel turned his eyes away reluctantly. He looked own the window to his side and thought of Sam’s words. He is now very sure Sam is almost completely like Abner. 

Sam pulled into the motel driveway and ordered a room. He was tired from driving and had to catch a couple of hours of sleep before he reached the bunker in a coffin. And if he did that, Dean would resurrect him and kill him again for wrapping Baby around a tree because he fell asleep. 

He pulled into the stall in front of his door and got out and reached to the back seat to get his travel bag. Gadreel copied him and slowly came around the corner of the Impala to stand next to Sam. He looked up at the taller man’s green eyes which seemed brighter in the vibrant sodium lights over the doors.

It was one of the few differences between Sam and Abner. Abner’s eyes are brown. 

“Thank you for your encouraging words, Sam. I will let myself take them to heart. And appreciate that you remind me so much of Abner.” Gadreel said, again in his custom propriety. Gadreel took Sam’s free hand that dangled at his side with the key card to the motel door and the ignition keys to the Impala. 

He held Sam’s hand for a moment and ran his fingers over the wide-spaced knuckles. Feeling the scars and rough skin from dryness against the pad of his thumb. Sam watches their connected hands before he felt Gadreel’s other hand come up and touch his face.

Sam’s eyes lifted in time to see and feel Gadreel pull him down slightly and kiss him on the lips. Sam’s eyes clamped shut and his back shivered. Sam wasn’t even aware when he had opened his mouth to let Gadreel kiss him deeper, only that the duffle bag around his shoulder had come loose and plonked to the ground near their feet and his hands coming up to hold the hood of the sweatshirt under Gadreel’s jacket. 

There was no sound for a while but the soft whisper of their breaths and the occasional bug hitting the lights with a zap. Most any other sound was drowned out by the rush of blood in his ears as Gadreel wrapped his fingers into Sam’s hair and sucked on his lips softly, gently, carefully. He is skilled. He has done this before, and Sam is sure that it is Gadreel’s feelings for Abner that is spurring this on. 

Sam isn’t going to complain. He felt a connection to Gadreel that went further than just friendship. Gadreel knows him inside and out. Probably knows more about him than even he does. Sam breathed out hard as Gadreel pulled back long enough to let Sam catch some air. But when their lips came back together, Sam had pushed Gadreel into Baby’s side and kissed him back forcefully, determinedly. 

Gadreel said something that Sam only recognized as Enochian. He didn’t have the will right now to attempt translating it. But whatever it was, it was something positive to Gadreel because the angel had wrapped his arms around Sam’s midriff and kissed with equal intensity. 

When their lips came apart, they were both panting for air. Sam stepped back, looking and feeling slightly awkward but not totally unpleased about what just happened. Gadreel looked even more confused about it. He was hardly able to look at Sam now as he lifted both their bags off the ground, hand Sam’s to him and throwing his over his shoulder.

“I… am guessing that is not something that typically happens for you after a heartfelt thank you,” Gadreel asked Sam’s shoes.

“Well, it was a bit unorthodox. I won’t lie.’ Sam said lightly. “But it’s also very evident it was for you at least. With Abner.” 

“Yes. It was.” Gadreel admitted. He felt Sam touch his shoulder and he looked up at him.

“It’s okay. I didn’t mind. We can work it out a little later. For now, I need to get some sleep. You should probably come in the room too and keep out of sight in case any angels are looking for you.” Sam said. Gadreel can see that Sam was speaking in a way that meant he was trying to change the subject and make Gadreel not think of the potential lingering inelegance between them. 

Sam and turned toward the motel room and Gadreel watched him go. Wondering if Sam would be opposed to allowing Gadreel to have him. Be one with him. As he was with Abner. The kiss may indicate that he doesn’t. But… Gadreel was also unsure if Sam is only looking for fun. Or is it serious? The words ‘we can work it out later’ rang clear in his head. Should this subject be brought up again, they will cross it then. 

He followed Sam into the motel room. A sweet tingle of some anticipation against his neck as Sam closed the door behind them.


	6. Joy of Creation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set just after Jack was killed by Chuck. 
> 
> Jack wasn't immediately sent to The Empty. 
> 
> Chuck wanted to um... interact with him first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was given as a prompt by the talented BoRan Vau. I asked her for a challenge and boy howdy did she really challenge me with this because I had a hard time with it. Not writing it, per-say... but because I know who Chuck is supposed to be (in biblical terms) and to Jack. But... I did it anyway LOL as a challenge to myself and maybe, just maybe some of you sickos may like it too.

Jack blinked rapidly in the sudden blinding light and he tried to spit sand from his lips. The grit clung to his face and mouth as he turned his head, trying to focus on the lapping sounds of the waves that forced his legs to float lazily behind him. He clenched his teeth, feeling the sand grind between them and he once again tried to spit as he turned his head to the right and stared down a beach of white sand that stretched as far as he could see.

The sun glared at him like an angry eye and he had to close his right eye to see better, trying to see anything beyond the aquamarine surf, deeper blue tide, and towering palm trees bent in every direction. The breeze blew the fronds and they seemed to lazily be waving at him.

Jack coughed so hard that he wretched as he tried to put his arms and knees under him. His limbs collapsed but he was able to roll onto his back. Even with his eyes closed, he still had to squint them against the brightness of the sun. He could still hear Sam screaming “NO!” in his mind. He could feel Castiel's hands grabbing onto his coat and see the bewildered shock in Dean's eyes as he was sucked away.

He remembered screaming himself as he seemed to travel in pieces through the eye of a needle and land reassembled here on this beach. The slight breeze did nothing to cool him as he turned his head to the right once more and looked at the expanse of the beach. There though, some 200 yards away, was what appeared to be something shinning. A bright, twinkling light that in his current mental state, confused him. All he could think about was water to drink. Jack ignored the fact that he was suddenly very human and rolled to his side.

He rolled to his side and with great effort, hauled himself to his knees then feet. He stood there, swaying as his legs felt much heavier than they were and began to plod toward the twinkling light, his squelching shoes and soaking pants making it harder to walk.

He ran his hand over his face, brushing away the drying sand as he kept walking, picking up the pace as best he could. The mere 200 yards seemed to stretch, and he got the feeling that he was only chasing a mirage. He began to trot, tearing off his jacket as he went. His shirt clung to him from sweat and seawater but still, the light shined on, seemingly beckoning him.

He yelled out of frustration as he now sprinted towards it and it still never seemed to get any closer. He stopped suddenly, nearly slipping in the shifting sand and yelled: “Stop it!”

His head, suddenly clear, he turned on the spot and looked around. The beach no longer stretched on forever. There was defiantly and end to either side, indicating that perhaps he was on an island. He then looked down, seeing the imprint of his body where he had been laying on the beach, half in the surf. All that running and he went nowhere. 

He could hear tinkling then and he spun around again, to see his tormentor sitting only 6 feet away. Chuck was sitting in what appeared to be a plain white beach chair and he was facing the ocean. Beside him was a table with glasses, glistening in the sun, that were stacked like a pyramid. His hands were folded in his lap and he seemed to be watching the waves.

Jack took his eyes off him and returned them to the glasses which were full of water and ice.

Chuck turned his eyes to Jack then smiled slightly as he watched the Nephilim walk quickly toward him. He fell on his knees and a dry huff escaped his mouth as he reached for the table.  
“No...” was all Chuck said.

Jack was instantly on his back, sprawled out in the sand at the deity's feet. He had managed to skim a finger over one of the glasses before he was pushed down and he brought that finger to his lips, rubbing it over the chapped skin. He looked up at him, seeing him fully for the first time since he appeared briefly in the bunker in front of his fathers.

Nothing was happening how Death said it would.

“Humans...for all their bravado about being...strong...and... independent...are really just.... fragile creatures,” Chuck said quietly, still looking at the waves lapping at the white sand.

Jack tried to speak but found he had no voice. It wasn't due to his thirst...it just simply wasn't there. He wanted to say only that he wasn't human but in the present moment, that wasn't true. He tried to look up at the deity, but the sun was just too bright.

“Let me help you with that...” Chuck said, raising an arm slightly and hooking his finger behind him.

Jack could barely make it out but then something began to softly rumble; cautious and slow. He then felt his feet being lifted slightly then found that he could move. Jack could not believe his eyes.

He sat up as his body was lifted by grass and roots. The palms slid slowly toward the pair, taking their glasses with them. Bushes trudged along as well creating a semi-circle around them. Four palm trees bent low and spread out their leaves, creating a canopy that blocked most of the sun; beams shined through, casting an otherworldly feel to the pairs sudden shelter.

“They love you, you know,” Chuck said, looking up at the fronds. “If humans only knew. Some do sure but most just see the money.” Chuck waved a dismissive hand and continued while Jack stared at the sudden canopy in awe, “They understand that they're cut down for shelter and to keep you warm...that's their purpose...it's the same for the beasts for consumption...But humans are greedy. The world was made for so much more.”

Jack stared at him as he seemed to now be holding something between his index finger and thumb; something very small. Jack lowered his eyes as Chuck looked him in the face. “They only need to have faith...”

Jack looked down at his chest as something tiny hit him. He didn't feel it but he saw the seed hit him and stick to the material. He picked it up gently then looked up at Chuck. He was staring at him with a soft expression. “That's a mustard seed...” he whispered.

Jack lowered his eyes and placed the seed into a bed of grass. He watched as almost instantly a tall, leafy green plant grew and was suddenly adorned with bright yellow flowers that crowned its top.

“You can eat those you know...” Chuck said, staring at the plant with an absent-minded expression. “They're bitter and you think the mustard plant might taste like a condiment but no...I had this hot-dog at Fenway once...” He looked up at Jack who was looking at him perplexed. “...never mind...”

Chuck slid forward in the chair so that he was perched on the edge. His elbows rested on the armrests and his head tipped slightly to the side. He stared out at the water with a slightly open mouth. His teeth seemed to be whiter than the button-down shirt he wore that was mostly undone. His blue jeans were rolled up, revealing from his shin, down. His bare feet were buried in the sand. His deity: arguably the deity seemed very human at this moment. However, even in the intense heat, there was no sweat on his brow; no moisture clinging his shirt to him.

“You're thirsty Jack.” He muttered, turning his head lazily to look at the man sitting awkwardly in the grass.

Jack tried to lick his lips as he returned his gaze to the glasses of water. The ice in them wasn't melting in the heat and they were as tempting as his next breath. He reached a hand forward and tentatively touched the top of Chuck's foot.

“Speak...tell me you are,” Chuck said. It was a command, but it was spoken softly, just a whisper above the sloshing waves.

“Please let me drink...” Jack rasped. His voice felt like sandpaper in his mouth. It hurt. It was better when he didn't speak. He brushed his hair back as he weakly got to his knees, depositing more sand in his hair but it was not a concern at this time. He could only look at the water.

“Come...” Chuck said, sitting forward.

Jack moved closer to him and sat in front of his knees. “I don't understand why I am here,” he muttered as he looked up at Chuck.

“Understand that we are not like humans, Jack. We the first law of thermodynamics...none of this blood mixing business...I am just curious about you.” He raised a hand and brushed some sand off of Jack's face. “Here.”

Jack watched as Chuck cupped his hand and half the cups drained. The ice clinking down to the bottom of the cups in a slight tinkle. He watched as water began to gather in his palm then slowly start to spill out.

“Don't waste it, Jack”

Jack reached forward, not thinking about grabbing the deity roughly on his arm and pressed his mouth to his palm and drank greedily.

Chuck raised his other hand and ran it through Jack's dirty blond hair. He could feel the Nephilim’s mouth pressed against his hand, suctioning up the water as it freely flowed.

(Author: I take over here) 

Chuck closes his eyes as he feels Jack’s lips against his palm. The cool, life-bringing water flowing as if it were a spring from his wrist. The more Jack took in, the more that came forth. Chuck noticed how the boy gripped his arm as if afraid he would pull back, take the crisp fluid from his dry tongue. Chuck could feel Jack’s fingertips digging for purchase, or to make the water come faster and he smiled. Most, if not all humans are just like this. If they get a good thing, they don’t want to let it go or they try to get the most they can when it is there. Yet Jack is different. 

He is not completely human. 

“Does that feel good on your throat?” Chuck asked as he leaned down to Jack’s ear. Jack answered with a whimper, perhaps because the flow of water was dwindling, and he had to press his lips to Chuck’s palm harder and use his tongue to lap up the little trickle that slid through the lines in it. He breathed out as he finally came up for air, his breath coming out into Chuck’s cupped hand. 

“More, please.” Jack huffed out. His fingers still digging into Chuck’s arm. Jack gasped a little when Chuck grabbed his face the way a parent would grab a child who is throwing a tantrum to get his attention. Jack’s eyes flickered between Chuck’s eyes, blue orbs that bore into him like infinite lights, to his lips, soft yet slightly chapped as if he too suffered thirst. 

“And like humans and their frailty… they are also greedy. Needy. And I see that in you! The human side that taints you and makes you so…’ Chuck ran his thumb across Jack’s lips, wetting them. “… human.” Chuck said it in a way that showed he could not think of another word that accurately described Jack’s human side. 

“But I am part human,” Jack said softly as Chuck’s thumb rested near the corner of his mouth. It was Chuck’s turn to look the Nephilim’s face over. The smooth angelic face in human form. The small pouty lips and the narrow and innocent eyes. Chuck smiled and pulled Jack forward a little more, so they were face to face. Jack was forced to crawl across the sand a little so that his shoulders rested between Chuck’s knees.

“I once looked at your father, when he sat beside me, and said he was beautiful and perfect. I still believe that of him. But you,’ Chuck said softly as he looked over Jack’s skin and took his other hand to caress the boy’s cheek. “you… are more so. More powerful and beautiful. And I can see it in your eyes. You have no idea of the magnitude of your power.” 

“You killed me,” Jack said. He pulled his face away. He backed up a little leaving Chuck with his hand out where he had been holding and caressing Jack’s face. “You killed me because you said I am dangerous. It… but it sounds like you are praising me now.” 

Chuck sat back on the chair, his hands coming together across his stomach as he looked toward the pyramid of glass. The sunlight catching the drops of water on the insides of the glass and casting spots of light to dance across Chuck’s face. He smiled serenely as if the accusation of murder was not just prefaced. He sighed deeply after a second and then touched the glass on the top of the pyramid and it toppled over. It hit the corner of the table and shattered into pieces. But before it hit the ground, it reformed on top of the pyramid as if Chuck had never dislodged it. 

“Why shouldn’t I praise you?’ Chuck asked as he turned only his eyes to Jack. “Just because you are dangerous it doesn’t mean you aren’t beautiful. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you. Something I made; Lucifer, made you. And I must say,’ Chuck leaned forward again and beckoned to Jack with his finger. Jack came forward against his own will and he did not look very happy about it as his shoulders were once again between Chuck’s knees. “He didn’t do too shabby a job.” Chuck smiled and laughed softly.

“You still killed me.” Jack reiterated. Chuck again looked down at the Nephilim’s mouth and continued to smile. He gently took Jack’s chin between his thumb and index and tilted his head back. 

“Yes… I killed you. But do you see how dead you are now?’ Chuck said and slid his hand down Jack’s neck to his collarbone. “… It was only physical death. The detail is in writing, Jack. I am a writer. I had to make the Winchesters believe I destroyed you. For a reason of course.” Chuck stopped talking as he noticed Jack’s eyes grow dark with anger and grief. The air between them seems to be displaced. Thinner as if the altitude had changed. A glimmer of the purest gold sunbeam wreathed Jack’s eyes.

“You caused them pain,” Jack said in a tremor. 

“Yes, I did. But they defied me. They had to be taught a lesson.” Chuck said as if he were talking to a precocious child. Jack shook his head.

“You had no right!” Jack snapped out before he could stop himself. Chuck’s face changed in that instance. Something more beautiful and terrible roiled up from behind the face of the vessel in which he occupied, and Jack was seeing the infinite and all-encompassing light and power of the deity behind Chuck’s expression. Jack tried to back away but found he was rooted to the spot. 

It was there he realized that the sound of the ocean no longer met his ears. No lapping waves. The palm trees no longer swayed. It looked as if everything was just a panoramic picture devoid of any tactile sensation and the only sound was Chuck’s breath. Even that did not sound like air being sucked into the lungs. It sounded, in Jack’s limited experience, like wind blowing through a hundred caves. Even the air seemed to tingle around them as again, that stretching sensation came upon him. 

Jack’s eyes snapped up to Chuck’s and he gasped.

It was like staring down a tunnel of time to which there is no end and all the stories of existence are etched on the walls in small pictures. To an unseen beginning an explosion of space and time and the first twinkling of stars and the first of Chuck’s tears becoming the rain that filled the seas and rivers. The warmth of his love becoming the heart of the universe. The flesh of his body becoming the land his creation stood on. The decay of his body becoming the green that covered the land. Sacrificing everything for man.

“Where were the Winchesters when I made the world?” The words came. But Chuck’s mouth did not move. It didn’t even come out as words that Jack has ever heard but he understood all the same. They were loud and frighteningly dominant. Jack’s hands went up to his ears and he covered them and ducked so that his forehead came to the sand and he cried. He didn’t even know he was going to cry, but tears poured out and into the sand.

Then the sound of the waves returned. The sway of the palms in the wind. The heat of the sun and the dryness of the summer day. Jack stayed with his head down at the sand for a moment before he heard Chuck shift in the chair.

“I didn’t want to do that to you, Jack. But you have that defiant streak just like your father. And,’ Chuck laughed a little. “You know… even the Winchesters have that defiance. Perhaps that is why I like them so much. Only difference between Lucifer and Dean and Sam is that the Winchesters want to save the world. Lucifer just wants to destroy it. And now there is you. With the powers to rival mine with the Winchester boldness. It’s like my two favorite shows having a crossover.” 

“What do you mean?’ Jack asked, still in that hunched over position, his face pointed at the sand between his knees. “What do you mean ‘power to rival yours’?” 

Chuck actually stood from the chair and stepped forward. He put his hand up in front of him and made Jack stand to his feet to face him. An unspoken demand that the Nephilim did not turn away from him again was planted into Jack’s head. The wind tousled their clothes and hair for a moment before Chuck looked up into Jack’s eyes and studied him.

“I am not a monster, Jack. Contrary to what the Winchesters would make you believe… I don’t want to kill anyone. And if they didn’t push me to do what I did in the cemetery, I would have just walked away, and their lives would have continued on the way it was.” Chuck said. “But no… your man, Sam just had to shoot me. With a gun, I made for them to kill you.” 

Jack was confused. He knew nothing about this. It must have happened after he was burned out. The last thing he can remember seeing was Castiel looking down at him. What happened after was he woke up on the shore of this beach with Chuck. 

“Sam… shot you? He had to have his reason for doing it!” 

“Oh, he did. He didn’t like knowing that he and everyone else is part of a big story I have written. No one was ever supposed to know… or I thought so. I made everyone so if they did know they didn’t care, or you know. Use it as an excuse for some deed or something.’ Chuck raised his eyebrows and bit his lip. “Oh yeah, and I killed you. And threw his brother across the cemetery. But I warned them not too. That is the problem with those Winchesters. They just don’t want to listen. If they had just trusted me. If they had just let me do what I had to do. They would understand why it had to be done.” Chuck said and turned away from the water and looked at Jack. 

“What do you mean?” Jack asked again. 

“Simply put. If Abraham had not listened to me and willingly attempted to sacrifice his son Isaac, things from that point on would have been much different.” Chuck said.

“But he didn’t. Abraham was stopped by an angel. And Abraham sacrificed a ram instead.” Jack said. Remembering the story. Chuck looked mildly pleased. 

“Ah, I see you did read the bible then. At least the Winchesters got one thing right by you.’ Chuck said and stepped closer. “And that is my point. Abraham… in this case, Dean was willing to sacrifice you and himself for the greater good of the world. But…’ Chuck raised a finger. “No angel appeared to stop the sacrifice. He just did it himself. And when I demanded it, he showed defiance. So instead of peace like Abraham and Isaac initiated on Moriah… we have the end of days because Dean did not show fear. And Sam shot me! That doesn’t look like fear either.” 

“So, what you are saying is this is just a tantrum,” Jack said dubiously. “Because you didn’t get your way.” Chuck clicked his tongue and lolled his head.

“No, you’re missing the point.’ He came forward and cupped Jack’s face, his thumbs again, running soft circles over his cheeks and lips. “I needed them to kill you. I needed you to die. It was written to be so. And because you didn’t die by their hands, I had to do it. And because I had to do it, things are going to be much different.” 

“Why is it different? What’s the difference between them killing me or you? I still died!” Jack asked in a soft whisper as he felt Chuck’s fingers tuck up under his ears. His touch gentle and soothing. He was looking down into that obviously aged face, yet some part of his face still etched in eternal youth. Youth in stone that has been part of life and existence since the beginning of time. Chuck smiled up at him. 

“Everything, Jack. An act of destroying something you love dearly is the greatest form of sacrifice an earthbound being can give. Not just to me… but to the event of time. I just wish Dean or Sam had done it. It would have been much more powerful meaning. I can kill on a whim. And you know what? No one thinks twice about it when I do it. They get mad at me for a while, but they always conclude that I had my reasons. And I do. Always. But the Winchesters have always been outside the realm of other humans. Dean and Sam needed to be hurt by your death. They have to really feel it. They needed you to die.” Chuck bit his lip realizing that it came out wrong. “What I mean is, they don’t know what your death would mean.” 

Jack let the words wash over him. Sounds like something slow and musical came up from the water. It sounded like a whale song. Strong and sad. Somehow, he felt not threatened by Chuck now. Some sort of picture was clicking into place. An epiphany coming to him like the sun eclipsing the rim of the world to shine a light on the darkness.

“By allowing you to die, Jack… I have set you free.’ Chuck said softly as he looked closely at the Nephilim. “Don’t you see? I need you, in the end… to trap me. Take me into yourself. And… you will be the new God.” 

Jack’s lips separated in a gasp and he wanted to back away, but he couldn’t. Chuck was still holding him there. “Set me free… how?” Jack’s voice broke as he looked down at Chuck’s smiling lips. 

“I helped you shed your mortal body. Eventually, you will go back. You will end up in the Empty. You won’t remember this conversation. Everything I suggest to you will come to you as your own idea or those who will aide you.” Chuck said and dropped his hands gently to Jack’s shoulders. “The only one who will remember this day on the beach… is me. And I will always remember.”

“Why…why was it necessary for Dean or Sam to do it?” Jack asked as Chuck slid his hands tenderly down Jack’s arms to cup his hands. Jack’s hands are soft. His fingers long and thin and curled up in Chuck’s rougher and wider palms. Chuck’s shorter fingers curled around the outside of Jack’s. 

“Well… it’s necessary for them to lose hope. It makes for epic storytelling and just think of how happy daddy one and daddy two will be when you come back.” Chuck smiled toothily as he stepped in closer. “Life and existence are one big run-on story. Reruns told in different languages and different times. But they are all the same. Each one adding their own spice to it. I had my chaotic era when I made the dinosaurs and believe me…’ Chuck laughed a little. ‘Those were a lot more fun than people would think! A world of giant lizards! What’s cooler than that?”

Jack just continued to look at Chuck perplexed. Chuck tutted a little.

“If you could have seen everyone’s face when they thought Abraham was gonna kill Isaac… they were on the edge of their seats! And then the sigh of relief. And I still get my tribute. Do you see? I love everyone and wish no harm. I could have let you live. But then…’ Chuck stepped closer so that his bare toes touched Jack’s shoes and he had to look up into the Nephilim’s face. “… you wouldn’t be able to do this.”

Jack’s head tilted back in a euphoric moan as something came out of him. If he was human, it may have been painful. It may have even killed him. Ripped him apart. But it was sweet relief. As if he had a maddening itch between his shoulder blades that he was finally able to get the right person to scratch in the manner he needed and liked.

Wings. Large. Too large for a human body to be able to hold, bloomed from his back. They flailed with little grace for a moment. Jack gasped as the tendons and muscles stretched. The feathers extended as the wings stood up straight on his back. The wind blowing through them like the sound of a flock of birds flying away crazily from an oncoming threat. Jack looked back at his wings and again, his breath was taken away.

There were not just two wings… there were four. The wings seemed to shine brighter than the sun. The expanse blocked out his view of the surrounding trees behind them. They shimmered in the sun like a holographic image. An array of metallic rainbow colors that shot across each feather as they moved and caught the sun. They seemed to float there like water and sway like the fronds in the breeze. 

“That’s it, Jack… those wings are a gift. And I must say… they are just as beautiful as Lucifer’s.” Chuck said in a satisfied whisper. He watched as Jack lifted both sets of wings up higher. Much the way a peacock would show off it’s feathers to a potential mate. But… they also do that to make themselves seem larger and threatening to other males. Chuck firmly believed it was the former he was witnessing. Jack had a smile on his face at the wonder of his wings as palpable things. He turned to look back at Chuck.

“Why now? Why didn’t you approach me before?” Jack asked. Chuck seemed to have to think about that for a moment.

“I was afraid to approach you.’ He said honestly. “You are very powerful. And because of the Winchesters… I was afraid they would influence you to… you know… not like me or think me some sort of maniac.” Chuck watched Jack’s face for some disbelief, but he didn’t see it. Once his walls came down in his bar in front of Metatron so long ago, it became liberating to actually tell it like it is. 

“I don’t want to hurt anyone, Jack. Not you. Not Dean and Sam. No one.” Chuck said in a low tremulous tone as he looked up at Jack. There is clear awe in his expression. It was then that Jack realized that his face was shining like his wings as if there was a spotlight over his head stronger than the rays of the sun. Chuck’s expression is much like a human caricature of religious awe. An expression that didn’t seem to be natural on the creator of everything’s face. Chuck’s hands had come up to Jack’s ribs and they lay flat against the Nephilim’s body and slid slowly around where they interlocked against the small of Jack’s back. 

“You will be me. I will be you. All you have to do is let me into you. And take me in… let me merge with you. And we can be one and save everyone from destruction. This is what I want. I know this is what you want too.” Chuck said as he leaned his chest into Jack’s. Its an intensely personal and intimate feeling. Jack was surprised to feel a heavy thudding in Chuck’s chest. It’s the perceived vessel’s heart. As well as his own hammering in time to the other deity’s ceremonial drumbeat of a pulse. 

“How do I know you are telling the truth?” Jack asked. His voice breaking as he felt Chuck’s breath near his neck. But he really didn’t need to ask. He can feel that Chuck is being honest with him. Even if he couldn’t sense the truthfulness instinctually, he knew because of what Chuck was implying. 

“I guess I don’t need to explain that to you. You can tell I am telling you the truth, Jack.’ Chuck came so close that his lips parted the air between his face and Jack’s long slender neck, and he drew in a breath to smell his pureness. Angel grace has a scent. At least to him, they do. They smell like cold air and incents. “I won’t lie to you. I want you to trust me.”

“I... I do…’ Jack muttered as he tilted his head forward. Feeling Chuck’s hair tickling his lips as he spoke. He could just feel it inside him. The way one would feel instinct. It's not explained, it just is, and you know it. It’s a part of his primal coding. His DNA for lack of a better way to put it. Like a person cannot unlearn to breathe. Jack brought his hands up and rested them against Chuck’s upper back and this simple move made the smaller deity lean forward and brush his mouth against the hollow of Jack’s throat. 

Jack’s reaction is galvanic. He moaned at the sensation. He had never been touched like that. His grace seemed to boil in his body. But it did not burn, it was pleasing. As if his grace was reacting to the one who made it. His wings snapped upward again and when they did, they caught the light and set the trees behind him on fire. The shoreline pushed back as if trying to escape some deadly drying agent that would suck all the water away into nothing. 

Chuck did not pull back. He did not stop. It was as if the fire in the fronds and the retreating sea foam was a natural occurrence to touching a being like Jack intimately. Even though, throughout time and space… no one has dared touch a being like Jack. No one except the creator of all. 

Chuck’s mouth opened and he raked his teeth against the hollow of Jack’s throat before biting softly at Jack’s Adam’s apple. Jack made the most beautiful whimper and his hands curled into gentle claws that hooked but did not pierce. Chuck’s hands came up and fingered at the joints of Jack’s wings closest to his back. 

“That’s it, Jack. Open up to me. Don’t be afraid.” Chuck’s voice trembled as his right hand came up and cupped the back of Jack’s neck and pulled him closer so that he could get a better taste of the flesh over Jack’s grace. He teased it with his lips and teeth, purposefully raking the coarse bristles of his beard and mustache over the area. 

Jack’s face bloomed red and he let out a ragged breath as he tipped his head back, allowing Chuck to get in closer. Not fully understanding the intense sensation of his neck and grace being toyed with like this, only understanding that it felt good. A single tear squeaked out of his eye as he inhaled with a particularly rough nip to his mastoid. A soft ‘ah’ came from him as Chuck’s fingers moved up into the shorter hairs on the back of Jack’s head.

“Each body is a light… every heart is the center of another galaxy and the cells around it the matter that makes up space. I have created each person to be a galaxy unto themselves. You and I… will be a universe. The cosmos personified.” Chuck said quickly as his excitement rose and his lips came up to Jack’s jaw. “Everything and nothing all at once. We can protect your loved ones. We can protect all. You will usher in paradise. The humans and angels will finally have their peace and live in systemic harmony.” 

Jack’s eyes, looking up at the sky, burned golden white. His mouth open and lips trembling as the images of time and space came to him like a lucid dream. It is a physical thing he is seeing. Billions and billions of bodies in the vast folds of space. Bodies of life suspended in sleep. Every once in an eon, two of these bodies would amalgamate to make another cosmic entity. Jack’s fingers dug a little more into Chuck’s upper back as he felt the deity’s lips move to his chin and then to Jack’s lower lip. 

“I was… told I would do amazing things… That I would bring peace.” Jack’s voice cracked again as he closed his eyes against the swirling hearts in the space, bright and dizzying. He tried to focus on all of them. See them all but they moved too fast and too many flashed by that he could not make out more than a glimpse. “Before I was even born. My mother knew I was destined to do great things.” 

“Who do you think told her that?” Chuck whispered and lightly danced his own bottom lip against Jack’s. Their breath coming out between their mouths, mingling in a crystalline mist like the formation of emission nebulas. A plethora of bright colors swirling between them and the ever-present hum and silence of space droned on. “You needed to know. Even before you were brought into the world, Jack… I knew I was going to have you.” Chuck said as he looked into Jack’s eyes. Chuck’s eyes, or his vessel’s at least, naturally vibrant blue, were bluer… now brown. Now green. Now purple. Now pink. They swirled in a kaleidoscope of color. 

The nebula hung between them before Jack leaned forward and passed his face through the mist and took Chuck’s mouth to his own. And at the union of their mouths across the swirling rainbow of color between them, it broke apart, closing a gap between any distance between them. The colors slowly drifted upward… slowly imparting its different colors into the wind and sky, touching the stratosphere, leaving smears on the underside of the ozone layer like the aurora borealis. 

Jack lifted his wings and spread them to their fullest capacity. He can feel the heat from the burning trees like a memory against his feathers. He breathed in through his nose as he too held Chuck’s face and kissed him like he was an old lover. Jack took pleasure in feeling the hair on Chuck’s face under his palms as he gently caressed his face. 

“Beautiful angel…’ Chuck whispered when Jack pulled away long enough to adjust his mouth from a different angle. But anything else Chuck meant to say in addition to it was cut off when Jack aggressively returned his mouth to the smaller deity. They both moaned in unison. As if their union was the fretboard of some heavenly instrument. The way the rays of the sun or some free-floating pocket of gas in space glancing off the atmosphere of the world creates those mysterious sounds in the sky. 

Jack felt Chuck start to lower himself and he was forced to follow him. In what felt like no time at all, both Chuck and Jack were on their knees. Hands touching and caressing gently. Eventually coming to a horizontal position beside each other. The sand no longer existed. The burning palm trees no longer burned or fanned in the wind. There was no wind. No ocean. No smell of brine. No water to quench thirst.

Just the feeling of the other body in their space. Chuck had rolled over Jack, straddling his narrow hips, feeling his body reacting to it as Chuck brought his hands up under Jack’s shirt to trace the shape of his body. His fingers working their way to Jack’s sensitive chest. Chuck could feel Jack’s legs twitching and moving around behind him, involuntary spasms of his body at the pleasure he was feeling. Chuck lowered himself to kiss Jack’s cheek and then his mouth softly. His breath is shaky. His power radiating and intense. 

“I want you to feel what is to come. What I have in store for us. For your human family. This will serve as a steppingstone. The way we will forge a path to paradise. The narrow road that you will make so that the chosen will follow.” Chuck muttered and Jack could only react by gasping and his back arched off the barrier that held him. Unnamed things stirring in him as Chuck’s fingers worked small circles over his skin as if mixing paint. 

Every part of Jack was trying to figure out why this was happening. Was this required to…’merge’ with Chuck? Physical contact? If it was necessary, where does getting him aroused come into it? Jack has been touched like this before. But truthfully, the feeling of it scared him a little. He wasn’t sure he liked how unguarded and unpredictable the pleasure made him abandon any self-control. Chuck’s fingers came down Jack’s belly and traced along the rim of his jeans and over the belt. Tenderly running his hand, open-palmed, over the slope of Jack’s crotch. Again, the reaction was propulsive. 

“Oh… my… god…” Jack groaned out between his teeth. Chuck normally had an issue with people saying that, but right now he grinned. He thought it was sweet, it was such a human thing to say in the act of pleasure. What Jack experienced was cosmic. What he didn’t see… was that this little bit of over the clothes touching has just created another sun far out of the human spectrum, expanding the universe. Chuck could feel the birth of the star and it excited him. So, Jack can… he can create worlds, just like him. 

And if Jack is this powerful with some light petting… what is he truly capable of when happy and in control? Chuck slid back a little and observed Jack’s body. The way he squirmed to his touch. The way his wings fluttered and snapped open and tucked into themselves with the increase and decrease of sensation. Chuck deftly took the belt buckle and began to fumble it open. He could have just… god powered it away. But he rather liked the tactile sensation of undressing. It is such a secret and seductive thing. The revelation of the body, one discarded bit of clothing at a time. 

So, he took the belt and opened it then found the button and zipper. He admitted he was a little hasty compared to all his previous ventures. But there is something about Jack that is just amping him up faster than the need to wipe everything off the face of the earth with a great flood. Chuck can justify it on some lordly terms, but he saw no point. The fact that he and Jack are still in this human form and not in celestial forms of light is pretty indicative of Chuck’s state of mind going into all of this from the beginning. He enjoys the feeling of a warm body against him. The more yielding, the better. 

But here is Jack. A person who is unlike anything a human is. A being who has not found his true way until now and still has not quite grasped the magnitude of what he is capable of. But tap dancing around the notion like a sperm cell tracing the egg to get in and create life. Chuck actually snickered at the train of thought. The joy of creation is more about the pleasure of it. 

But since they are not human, the fundamentals of creation were archaic. Humans are so simple that way and that is why Chuck loves them. Never wants them to die away. Celestial beings of pure light create in a different way and yield a completely different array of feelings. However, that is not to say it doesn’t feel good. But why pass up this opportunity to get it both ways? 

Chuck wasn’t aware of when the Nephilim had started, but he was rubbing Chuck’s thighs. Squeezing the muscles of his upper legs and crooning as his hips moved around under him. Chuck can feel Jack’s arousal brush into him, and he thought for a moment how dirty that is. But felt a simultaneous jarring in his lower belly that spread down between his legs. Chuck had his first strong reaction to this, and he threw his head back in a gasp of air. 

“Woohoo…that’s nice.’ Chuck sniggered and leaned over, placing his hands on Jack’s wings near his shoulders, pinning them down. Jack’s eyes stared up at him, rimmed in golden fire as his small lips quivered. “You feel those creative juices flowing?”

“I don’t know what I am feeling,” Jack said with a shaky breath as Chuck’s fingers rubbed the silky feathers along Jack’s wings, transfixed on how they changed colors under his touch. 

“I do. I can feel it in you.” Chuck whispered near Jack’s ear as he lowered more and bit the tender lobe and it made Jack’s head snap to the side. “I know it sounds like a Santa Claus sort of thing. But it is the same sort of thing. I know what you are doing and feeling. As a matter of fact, I know you know what I am feeling too.”

“I can ... feel something.’ Jack murmured against Chuck’s shoulder as he tried to sit up, his wings pushing out air around them as they flailed wildly. “I am just afraid you will try to take me over and hurt me again! Hurt Sam and Dean and Castiel again!” Chuck laughed again, showing his teeth, which became a bit distracting.

“I told you. I don’t want to hurt anyone, and I meant it. Why would I? I made all of them, including you. So…’ Chuck leaned forward again and tickled the tip of Jack’s nose with his own as he lowered his tone an octave and looked into his eyes. A surfeit of colors ranging from deepest black and blue to the purest white wreathed his iris. “I love all of my little creations. I don’t want to break them.”

“Then why are you doing this? Why do you want to make me assimilate you into myself?”  
Jack asked as Chuck started unbuttoning Jack’s shirt, opening it one button at a time and revealing his smooth skin underneath and the translucent shine something like a superball with glitter in it would look. 

“You know, this may have already started a while back. But Dean and Sam just wouldn’t let me. I tried to do this when I was going to let Amara have her way with everything I made.’ Chuck said. He spread the shirt open and looked down at Jack’s torso and leaned over to slowly drag his mouth and teeth over the soft supple skin between Jack’s pectoral muscles. “But no one wanted that. Everyone wanted me to live so they can continue to live. I guess I didn’t realize what I was getting into when I created free will.” He chuckled a little as he moved his mouth over Jack’s collar bone.

“You were going to let yourself die? In doing that, everything you created?” Jack asked in a whisper. His body felt hot. Responsive. It was like he couldn’t help it. Chuck hummed in response.

“I thought about it. But my pesky scribe sort of said things that made me think better of it. So I had to come up with another way to stay alive and a more creative way to tell the story rather than ‘I smote my sister and life went on’. That’s…’ Chuck was face to face with Jack again, one of his legs coming down between the Nephilim’s. “That’s when I had you as a brainstorm.” He enjoyed the look of awe on Jack’s face as much as he loved the notion that people, in a relatively short amount of time, will be looking at Jack like that. 

“I can go to sleep inside you. I will have my eternal rest within you.” Chuck said and his voice was hoarse as he pressed down on Jack. His face caressing the side of Jack’s. Jack’s eyes were closed. He lifted slightly to the physical pleasure of having this being on top of him. His hands coming up to cup the back of Chuck’s head to hold on to him.

“But why…?” He asked. Chuck drew lined tenderly around Jack’s jaw with his opened lips, the very tip of his tongue leaving a trail of wetness in its wake. 

“I’m tired, Jack. I need someone else to take over. And none of my angels are capable nor powerful enough for that. But that is why I made you.” He whispered as he shifted his weight and pushed himself between Jack’s thighs. His hands suspended in the air on either side of Jack’s head as he looked down at him. “Open your mouth, Jack.”

Jack looked at him untrustingly for a moment. But again, that feeling of knowing Chuck meant him no harm became a certainty in his mind. Jack reached up and gripped the collar of Chuck’s white button-down and slowly, tremulously opened his mouth. Chuck also opened his and flow of light, like liquid smoke, a lot like grace, but not… flowed. It seemed to have a mind of its own, little veins like fingers spread out and touched Jack’s lips as it passed them and beyond his teeth. 

As the breath of Him entered Jack, the Nephilim arched up again and let out a loud and desperate cry. His entire body felt like it was engulfed in fire. A flame of archaic passion. An old ceremony or tribe ritual of creation that was never meant for human eyes or recollection. The oldest form of magic that only the first hand to touch the world could know. Jack’s eyes fluttered with unspeakable revelations in the macrocosm of thirteen billion years ago and the subsequent time until the now. 

The light Chuck poured in Jack was lighting the inside of the Nephilim’s body as if someone had turned on a powerful light inside him. Chuck moaned. It wasn’t just mere grace he spilled into Jack. It is a small taste of his life force. His essence. The thing that endlessly connects him to everything in the cosmos. It is what helps him feel everything no matter where he is. It is like grace… but much more powerful. He could never do this to anyone else. The power would rip them apart. But he built Jack especially to withstand it. And he is performing perfectly. Beautifully. Chuck looked down where the essence of his being connected them. He can feel everything inside Jack and himself mixing, churning and bleeding into one another.

Chuck fancied himself well tempered and in control of all. But he thought, as his head lowered and he pressed his lips, opened mouthed, to Jack’s, he was having difficulty not letting collective wisdom and power in him spill out automatically into Jack. Possibly devastating in effect for both of them and perhaps the entirety of existence. He had to temporize… he had too. Lest he undoes his entire plan for the world and the universe. Hence all the touching and distraction of human physical pleasure. 

Jack arched up harder, fell back and arched up again as he panted and cried out. The light filling him and moving around. He could feel it touching the inside of his body like soft breaths and caressing fingers of an uncertain lover. Filling an unseen meter to a danger point in which he anticipated and feared to reach the red, not knowing what would happen when it did. He pushed back. He pushed back with all his might and when he did, he felt something he didn’t expect. He felt it and saw it. His eyes opened up long enough to witness Chuck pull back slightly as another light, coming from Jack, that was like flowing golden strands of hair, twining with his and entering Chuck’s mouth in the same manner. Chuck had not seen this coming. Or if he did, he didn’t know Jack was capable. Jack could tell by the look on the deity’s face. 

The gold strands of light wrapped around Chuck’s liquid light and squeezed, hugged and slid up like a tightly gripping hand and into Chuck’s mouth and down into the well of his power where Chuck’s came from, deep within the colliery of his being. He plunged in it like submerging into a bottomless ravine of warm light and water that stretched long into the past. A sound like thunder could be heard. The gentle patter of rain on a tin roof. The tittering of birds in the distance on a humid summer morning. Jack reached his head up and reclaimed Chuck’s mouth. Jack knew, and again it must have just been the connection, he was witnessing the moment Chuck woke as a human. 

This excited Jack. He was seeing something so intensely personal and natural that he was touched by the simple human feeling of it. Outside of a human body, it is easier to appreciate the simple sensations of time and space of your surroundings that anyone who has a corporeal body takes for granted. Chuck the softest mewling sound as Jack returned, with interest, the sensation of crawling around in Chuck’s skin. It was such a jarring sensation to see someone like Chuck back away from something like this that Jack had a sudden urge to pull away. But Chuck didn’t let him. Again, if Chuck had expected it to happen, he didn’t expect it to feel like that. 

“Don’t pull away,” Chuck said. It came out as a command, but Jack had already no intent to do so. In fact, Jack had gripped the back of Chuck’s shirt and pulled him to the side and got on top of the smaller man. His physical body, indeed, both of their worldly bodies, grew excited. The sky, the heavens, the universe around them, looking like a planetarium set on high speed, sped by them. 

As Jack came out on top, his wings unfurled and stood tall on his back. He was looking down at Chuck, the golden light in his eyes very bright against the backdrop of quickly moving stars and dark matter. Chuck could see explosions of light in the distance, billions of lightyears away, the new beginnings of stars and systems popping up like blossoms in the spring. Chuck’s hands came up to hold the young creator there over him and looking at him as one would observe an eclipse. The sun passed behind Jack and it haloed his head like a corona of enthusiasm. Chuck smiled up at him, like the way a teacher would appreciate the creative ambition of a student. 

“That’s it, Jack… the universe is your canvas… your power, my power, is your paint and palette. Create… invent… discover. There is no limit.” Chuck whispered and as he did, the gold and liquid light fluttered around his words. Jack took this to be a literal interpretation of creation and he pulled Chuck’s shirt open, exposing the vessel’s chest. Light curls of hair lay on its surface and Jack looked down on it in wonder. He placed the flat of his hand over the coarse hairs and ran his fingers through it, and as he did, a field of soft, light green grass grew out of the dark matter. It swayed a little as his wings, all four of them, beat down and up in intervals. It spread pollen over the vast opening of the ground growing up under them. 

Chuck laughed lightly as he closed his eyes and dropped his head back to the grass as if he was pleased that Jack had finally grasped his power after so long of trying to make him understand. It seemed, now, to come effortlessly to Jack as his wings kicked up the pollinating fibers and gave rise to the wind that blew the trees fast-growing around them. Not the tall photosynthetic things he created, but giant trees of pink and purple… giant willows of bleeding-heart blossoms. Great scented lilac trees. Not bushes, but actual trees the size of the almighty redwood. All around them, white egret orchids, looking like millions of birds in midflight, flapped their petals in response to Jack. White and green spores floated lazily around them like fireflies in a windstorm. 

Jack came forward and leaned over Chuck, their groins pressing together, whether unintentional or not, caused them both to make soft sounds of pleasure. As they moaned and pushed into one another the way hands would knead pottery clay, the sky overhead had burst into color. A wide variety of hues passed overhead and settled on iridescent. A plethora of pale rainbow colors interchanging the way light would create colors in sprays of water or the surface of a bubble. 

“ah…’ Chuck whimpered as Jack pushed forward against him, their groins tender and hard, in the restrictive confines of human clothing. As the sound came from his lips, streaks of light, like the race of shooting stars, skimmed across the sky. Only they arched off the atmosphere the way a stone would skip the water. Everything in Jack’s world defied explanation and reason but it was more beautiful than anything he had created. Jack pushed back and forth again and as he did a fine mist emanated from between his lips with the shaky expectoration of his breath as soft vaporous things. Chuck pushed up against Jack in turn, lifting one of his legs slightly to feel the grass under his bare feet tickle between his toes. 

“It… it feels good,” Jack whispered as he rose up slightly, Chuck pushing at him as the clouds of gold rose from his mouth and into the air. Golden clouds. They shimmered against the sky. Chuck gripped him a little tighter and pulled him down as he propelled upward, crushing them together. The animal sensation of their sex burning a delicious head on the drink of this creative flow. Chuck whispered off a gentle keening laugh. 

“Then don’t stop… keep going.” He said and pushed up again in equal measure. Jack’s hands came to settle on Chuck’s shoulders, and he met every thrust of Chuck’s with his own likewise. Jack’s eyes closed and his mouth opened as a loud and lecherous sound came out. As it did, Chuck grunted and the sounds they made created a passing squall of thunderclouds. Lightening zinged across the kaleidoscope sky and formed an effect of a luminescent spiderweb with due clinging to it. Jack panted and cooed, his eyes closed as he bit his lips and dug his fingers into Chuck’s shoulders. Shifting his hands so they were skin on skin. Chuck managed to partially sit up and press his mouth to Jack’s chest and kiss it. Caress it with his tongue as he too panted and cried in little hisses at the feeling. 

Whatever combination of sensation they felt created great flocks of birds to pass overhead. They may have been birds, but they looked like whales. Gigantic Blue Whales with feathered wings instead of pectoral fins glided over them, casting great shadows as they slowly swam through the air singing their low melodious tune. Jack tilted his head back again and let out another louder cry as Chuck’s mouth fastened around his nipple, licking it in deft circles. The effect caused the whale birds to rise above the gold-colored clouds and sing louder as if they were afraid of the sound. Or perhaps answering it questioningly. Touching against the action with uncertainty. 

Little creatures with the ears of rabbits and the bodies of ferrets skittered in the tall grass. They popped up over the field like prairie dogs and looked toward where the sound was coming. They had human-like faces. Soft and wide-eyed curiosity as they observed the two climactic forces join in union. Larger beasts prowled the outskirts of the field to which Jack and Chuck lay, witnessing the event of their union. An amalgamation of different species rolled into a dozen or so different creatures to which a human would lose their minds to see because their brains would not process how it came to be and exist at all. 

Chuck was huffing faster against Jack’s slim yet shapely chest. His fingers coming up under the material at Jack’s back, his fingers brushing the wing joints there as he dug against flesh and feathers, eagerly. He could feel the heart beating hard against his lips and he pushed the Nephilim to the side, guiding him to lay down with him on top. Devoid of hindering garments as they rested warm body to warm body. The creatures that stood to watch had retreated into the trees as the orb of the sun dipped down out of sight as if hiding its face, it’s other eye, the orb of the moon looking over them like a guardian. 

Chuck’s left arm was up under Jack’s neck, bracing his head and his right hand was smoothing down Jack’s side as pinfeathers grew there like the chest of a bird. He ruffled them, played with the softness. Jack’s arms came up and around Chuck’s shoulders, his fingers digging into flesh in a fresh wave of frantic anticipation. He tilted his head and allowed Chuck to make a sweet meal of his neck and jaw. Jack cried inarticulate syllables between himself and Chuck. Other little things popping up around them but at this time, he wasn’t seeing them. His eyes were closed and feeling Chuck’s mouth, warm and wet pass over his ear. 

“You have quite the creative streak, Jack.’ Chuck said proudly. ‘Let’s travel down a different avenue. Flex that creative muscle.” He said as he positioned himself against Jack. Masculine hardness against masculine hardness, two deities of light with a dash of mortality. The culmination of their light mixed with the DNA of a human, what manner of being would they create? “What can we create together?” 

“It’s not physically possible.” Jack shuddered against Chuck as their bodies ebbed and flowed to each other like waves against the sand. Chuck chortled and kissed Jack’s face. As his mouth drank deeply of Jack’s cheeks, lips and tongue, Jack felt something in him, the inert power of creation he only showed on a small scale, stir up again. It pushed against his barriers and pulled back. Pushed and pulled. The friction is maddening. Jack’s thighs, spread to allow Chuck between them, trembled with need. But it was so much more than the physical feeling the eddy of their movement provided. 

“Why not? Because man told you it isn’t?” Chuck asked. “They only understand to the barricades of their limited structure as creators. They are physical things with a restricted ability to create outside the box. The only way they can do that is by breaking every rule I have set in place and in books.” Chuck said.

“But you and I. We aren’t these physical things. We are so much more. You showed me a little taste of what you are capable of and we are laying in it, Jack. You are the color gold. I am the color blue and white. What would happen if our light combined?” Chuck asked and pressed harder into Jack. Jack’s reactions to it innocent and beautiful, like the thing he had created just by enjoying the feeling of Chuck’s chest. Jack’s eyes fluttered shut as another of those lascivious moans came out of him. 

“Creation is love, determination and the ability to give part of yourself to its growth,’ Chuck said in a hurried whisper against Jack’s mouth. Jack muttered again, inarticulately as he moved nonparallel to Chuck. Chuck’s eyes closed and his mouth trembled open as his own inner capability bubbled and frothed like boiling water. Jostling harder into Jack, wanting to get deeper and feel, see, hear and taste everything. Amazed that the Nephilim is so receptive. Chuck let out a choked gasp as he felt the throbbing and incessant need to forgo the luminescent side of him and just focus purely on physical human satisfaction. He wanted both. It’s been a while since he has had either. 

Not only that, but the sounds coming from Jack. The responsiveness of his wings as they reacted to various stimuli. Even if Jack was completely quiet, which is not the case, Chuck would know what is happening to him. Jack, as it turns out, is very physically sensitive, both in human and light form. His gold light, like the finest spray of golden glitter, emanated from him as he grew more and more aroused. Jack spread his wings and lay them flat on the grass under him as he lifted his legs and wrapped them around Chuck’s waist, lifting his hips in time. Chuck’s light twinkling around him like the fall of tiny stars or magic. They touched. Mingled. It was happening. They flowed together like the blood through new veins. Chuck, again, gasped at just how strong and profound Jack is. Everything he embodied so robust and mysterious. 

“We give a drop of our eternal glow, the wellspring of our power, to create eons of life… add a fusion of man and we make a world of radiant beings. Possessed of the power of creation akin to us,’ Chuck added. He pressed down faster, harder. Jack cried out harsher, more ragged as a glow sprung up from between them. An orb-like a small sun with beams that broke the barrier of their skin the way a light can be shined against a hand and you can see the blood and bone in the flesh and sinew. “Just one drop, Jack… one small drop. And we create this.” Chuck picked up a little to show Jack the growing and pulsing sphere between them. It spun on an axis. It had subtle colors under the white glow. Jack looked at it, mesmerized.

“Did I…did we…” He asked and Chuck nodded.  
“We did, love. We did. I told you… the physical constraints of humans do not apply hear. Now…’ Chuck said as he lowered back down with the spherical light between them and pressed into Jack with quickening strides. The more he pressed, the higher and lewder Jack sounded. Lustful yet curious. He was taking the care to have physical pleasure with the creation of life the way man and woman do to simply make babies. But that is not what they are doing. They are combining powers to churn out universes. 

This, the first one born of Jack, the soon to be the new lord of all, hung between them, unblemished. Perfect. Pristine. Chuck looking down between the sphere and Jack with awe and love as he came to a radiant completion and Jack wasn’t sure if he did it because Chuck willed it, but he too came to completion at the same time but totally apart from Chuck’s. 

Chuck’s completion was more like an implosion of a black hole, everything sucking into him. All the beasts and trees and skies being pulled into him as he thundered through the throes of passion, his teeth biting and ravaging Jack’s neck, jaw, and lips in a frenzy. Growling and mewling at the same time as if he never experienced anything like this feeling. His fingers hooking into various parts of Jack as he imbibed in the colors around him like an alcoholic. 

But at the same time, Jack opened up. The sphere gaining all the colors of his little slice of would he created in the space of time he has been with Chuck this way, it spun, his heart shining brightly from his chest like the warming sun as he cried out and lifted his hips. His body trembled as he was pulled away from the slowly rotating sphere and realized… the thing he created between himself and Chuck was not a life form in the sense of a living human. But an entire planet. A planet with kaleidoscope skies and flying feathered whales and… golden clouds. The sun and moon; the face of an entity watching over the inhabitants of the planet like an observant parent. Watching first the upper side with its sunlight and then watching the underside as the moonlight replaces the sun. 

There is a tender warmth in the pit of his stomach as he was pulled back away from that spinning orb he created. A sadness that filled him at his departure from it caused a single tear to spring from his eye. Chuck caught it on his finger and reached over and dropped it onto the planet. Jack understood it to be the first rainfall that would fill seas and rivers. 

“What will happen to it?” Jack asked in a hushed whisper as Chuck returned to wrap his arms around him and nuzzle his face into Jack’s neck. He was contented. 

“Oh, it will just turn there on its axis until you take over and then… you can do whatever you want with it.” Chuck said happily. “See… everyone, even the angels, thinks I am making new worlds because I am disappointed with the ones I made before.’ Chuck looked back at the thing he helped Jack create. “Truth is, I was disappointed. But they all still exist because I haven’t the heart to obliterate any of them. Because despite the fact that I felt I failed with them, I still loved them.” 

Jack looked over his shoulder at Chuck. 

“Why did you feel you failed on them?” Jack asked. Chuck bit his lip as he stayed silent for a few long beats. 

“Because I wasn’t happy doing it alone. Part of the beauty of creation is to have someone else to bounce ideas off of. Get feedback. Have someone else’s unique addition.’ Chuck pointed at the small planet with a wistful grin. “That… is much better than a planet full of just squirrels.” 

“So… you did this because you are… lonely?” Jack asked. He had heard about Chuck’s sister. He wasn’t technically alone. Chuck had to seriously consider this. Then he nodded as he looked at Jack. 

And they were back on that beach. The trees swaying in a heated breeze. Jack was normal and Chuck was back to his usual appearance. Jack had no wings and Chuck was seated in his chair. The pyramid of glasses, full and wet with condensation. Ice still floating gently within its coolness.

“I have forever felt stranded on a beach with no one to talk too. Which is part of the reason I took this vessel. My sister would just destroy everything. And even though I initially thought about letting her, truth is... I would have regretted it. I love my creations too much.” Chuck said as he looked back at the water. “For me… existence, from the beginning to now, is just like the glass I tipped off the side of the pyramid. It broke but then before it could fall into the sand, it reformed back at the top, complete. If I break it, it doesn’t stay so because I would feel guilty. The guilt I feel heals the things I have ruined. You see why my being a writer makes sense.” Chuck said with a morose sigh. 

“That… sounds like a hard and wonderful thing to have.” Jack said. Chuck looked at him curiously.

“How do you figure?”

“If I had that power… I would be able to bring Mary back merely because I feel guilty that I accidentally killed her. I wouldn’t be so afraid of the burden because I would be able to fix it in the end. Dean would still love me. Sam would still love me. They would never have had to try shoving me in a box. I could make it right, avoiding all that drama.” Jack said. Chuck shook his head.

“You see… things like Mary dying are supposed to happen. She didn’t belong in this time. It’s all part of the story, Jack. She was from a past that is gone and already told. The only reason I let her stay as long as I did was that Amara gave her to Dean. If I had my way, Mary would have stayed dead.” He could see Jack becoming upset again. He shook his head.

“You are still viewing death as a bad thing. To a human, it is. To things like you and me, they are not. Mary… John… they are in heaven. Together. Happy. What is wrong with that? And when the time comes. All of those souls in heaven, all of those people will return to their celestial bodies. Although, I will not be the one to do that.’ Chuck nodded at Jack. “It will be you.” 

“Is… is that why… I… we made that planet?” Jack asked quietly and Chuck smiled and nodded.

“Yes… and just think… you will see them all again. But on a planet you created.” Chuck grinned so his teeth flashed in the sunlight. 

“But you said I would take you into me,” Jack said. “So, it won’t just be me. I don’t want to be alone either.” 

“Oh, I will be there. Just… not so you can see and feel me. And you won’t be alone. I will give you the angels too. Maybe you can curb Lucifer better than I could. I obviously did that all wrong. This is a chance of a lifetime to have your actual father in your life without him being a murderous lunatic.” Chuck said, raising his brows as if hoping it wasn’t a skeptical statement. “Lucifer won’t have to bear the Mark… because there will be no cage needed to hold an opposing force at bay. I doubt my sister is any threat as far as that goes, anymore. All those angels will be there to serve you and the humans.”

“I don’t want them to serve me. I want them to have… a life of their own and free will.” Jack said. “If they choose to stand by me, that is their choice. But I want… I want Castiel to be able to have the freedom and choice to stay or leave to be with Dean and Sam.”

“Don’t you think he does that already? Out of all the angels… Castiel is the most interesting aside from your father. That’s why I kept bringing him back. Believe me, Castiel will also be yours.” Chuck stood up and beckoned to Jack to follow him. But Jack stood there with sun-dappled spots dancing across his face as he watched Chuck walk down to the water's edge. 

“So… why did we…?” Jack started to ask. He was looking intently at Chuck’s back as the deity faced the ocean with his hands in his pockets. The waves came up and swirled around his ankles. “Why did we do what we did?”

“What? Made that planet? I told you, so the souls in Heaven have a place to go once I am gone for good.’ He looked over his shoulder and noticed how Jack blushed. “Oh, you mean that… that thing… okay, well… if I had actually presented myself to you in my uh… true form, it would have obliterated you. Like it or not, I may have physically killed you. But you still have a body and… as tiny as it is, a small speck of your soul remains. I can’t let you consume me if you are dead. That was really the only way for us to um… mingle our light. Of course,’ Chuck realized he was babbling and grinned uncomfortably. 

“You… you liked it, right?” 

“I… yes… I did. I just can’t understand why it was necessary.” Jack said and Chuck shrugged. 

“No, perhaps not. But one day you may understand. But all of this will be lost on you. So,’ Chuck said and turned to face him. “In a nutshell, I am about to go down in history as the bad guy. You will save the universe with Dean, Sam and Castiel and… a wide variety of others you will awaken from The Empty. You will boot them out, take them in and set them free on the world again. Everyone is going to want in on trying to stop me,’ Chuck said quickly and he can see questions rising to Jack’s lips.

“But why are you making yourself the bad guy? Why don’t you let me go back to Sam and Dean and Castiel and just explain to them what you are doing?!” Jack burst out. Chuck raised his hand and smiled, holding his middle finger and thumb together.

“If I do that… then there won’t be an opportunity for the things I have planned to unfold. Believe me… Dean and Sam will appreciate it in the long run even if they have to go through hell to get there. All those familiar faces they thought they lost over the past. It will be great. Not only that… I think it's about time I sort of wanted to take the dive anyway, remember? There can’t be an epic battle without a badass villain. And I am about as badass as they can get, right? Creator of all things against two humans and a fallen angel? It’s gonna be great!” Chuck laughed and Jack held out his hands.

“Wait! I don’t understand!”

“You will…” And Chuck snapped his fingers. Everything was black. Nothing. Empty.

Jack opened his eyes as he lay on his back. He didn’t know where he was. There was an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach as if he had forgotten something very important. He tried to sit up and look around. Craning his head this way and that but seeing nothing but endless blackness until a portion of it moved. Liquid yet solid enough to glide along with the glass-like surface of the floor. 

“Who are you?” Jack asked as he watched it tilt its head to the side and smile at him. A wide gap at the bottom of the thing that was supposed to be his head spreading from side to side.

“Yeah about that…’ Another voice sounded and Jack quickly turned around. “We need to talk.” A dark-colored woman with a threatening-looking scythe said as she looked down at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't like doing uh... interfamilial writing. Admittedly this is only the second time. But still, it is enough for me. That is why I wrote it the way I did. I made it sound like that is how they were creating new worlds rather than just Chuck being a pervert and shit. Still a bit icky about it but I liked how I wrote it too much not to share. 
> 
> and yes... the title is a bit from FNAF because I just watched a Youtuber play it LOL and the title stuck.


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